Souls: The Tale of Team B1NC
by S. Wordsmith
Summary: A rebellious punk rocker. A socially awkward assassin. A sage with a taste for tea. And a dude named after a color. Four teens, latecomers to Beacon Academy, become hopelessly entangled in a conspiracy far bigger than it appears. Will the newly formed Team Bionic be able to avert the catastrophe looming over Vale, while surviving the worst evil of all... CLASSES? (New March Update)
1. Chapter 1: The First Part

**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, the locations or the characters featured in the show, and I am not affiliated with Rooster Teeth in any way. All credit and, I presume, copyrights for the creation of this wonderful series belong to Rooster Teeth Productions and the original creator, Monty Oum. I do, however, lay claim to this story, my own Original Characters (OCs) and any locations featured here that did not originate in the show (that is to say, those which I created). Any similarities to actual persons or locations in real life, living or deceased are entirely coincidental. References to other productions may or may not be accidental or they are at least vague enough to avoid any lawsuits. I hope.**

 **Greetings and salutations, readers! If you're reading this, that's good, so I'll keep it brief-ish and you can get to the story. This is my first fanfiction so please feel free to post comments and reviews. I'm still testing the waters with this project, so the more views/reads this fic ends up with, the more likely I'll continue with it.**

 **I'm doing my best to write this with detail and all that fun stuff, and I thought this chapter was okay enough to post, but I'm hoping to eventually be able to write better and better. I have some stories in mind that I've read that are sort of my role models when it comes to this, and I'll probably recommend them eventually.**

 **One last thing before we get started: if you haven't yet, watch RWBY. That's the prequel to this fic. Fun fact: if a picture is worth a thousand words, then each frame of the show is a thousand words, times roughly 4.75 hours of the show, at an estimated 15 frames per second, equals about 256 billion words. That's in comparison to about 3000 words in this chapter. So go experience the masterpiece that is RWBY before you read this one.**

* * *

 _Thousands of miles away from the surface of the world called Remnant, a man stood on the moon. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, and he stood in the center of a large crater. Though the features of his face were obscured by shadow, it was possible to make out that his eyes were closed. He slowly gazed around at his surroundings without opening them, as if he could see without looking._

The moon. Splintered into fragments thousands of years ago by the forces of God knows what. But it's been like this since the beginning of history. It's a part of the world that everyone down there on that tiny planet knows and loves. The world they take for granted, going about their lives as if nothing could ever go wrong. The world they think is theirs.

 _He looked up, or down, at the planet before him._

The world that I'm about to shatter.

The humans, the Faunus and their petty war, the proud academies with their Hunters and Huntresses. All of them will fall, in time. It's almost ironic; they call this age "a time of peace." How little they know. There's a storm coming, and when the dust settles, I will be the only one left standing.

 _The man opened his eyes. He was no longer on the moon; now he found himself standing in a small, dark room with stained concrete walls. Water dripped rhythmically from a rusted pipe running across the ceiling, and before him lay a metal door riveted into the wall. He reached forward to grasp the wheel in the center, turning it._

Time to go to work.

* * *

Sirens echoed throughout the streets and alleys of the city of Vale. Crashes and shrieks were clearly audible from almost any given direction, but the high walls of buildings near the street made the sounds behave curiously. Citizens of the once-peaceful kingdom ran in panicked, terrified crowds, pursued relentlessly by the creatures of Grimm. One woman pushed a baby stroller frantically as she ran, only to be cut off by a snarling Beowolf. She scooped up her child, shrieking, then pushed the carriage at the monster and ran. The Grimm's eyes gleamed from behind its bony white mask, and its maw split to release a low, guttural growl before it sprinted after the mother and her child.

Amidst the chaos, a girl of seventeen or eighteen years walked out onto the street from an alley. She was dressed in an orange jacket over a light brown shirt, along with a pleated black skirt that fell to about knee-length. A brown leather strap ran from her right shoulder down to her left side. Her hair was a shade of strawberry blonde and curly, falling just past her shoulders. She sported brown heeled boots and burnt-orange knee socks, as well as a series of looped bronze bracelets on each wrist. The girl walked with an air of confidence, as if she didn't care much about the people around her fleeing in the opposite direction.

Natalie Dryas observed the panicked civilians. _Must be a big deal, this breach._ A passing man noticed her standing idly and grabbed her arm. "Miss, haven't you heard? Some big hole opened up in the middle of the town square. There are Grimm everywhere! It's not safe! We've got to go!"

She glanced at him without interest. "Yes, I had noticed about the Grimm part. They keep attacking me and it's starting to get annoying." She was interrupted by a snarl from the alley behind her. The heavyset, muscular bodies of three Boarbatusks emerged from the shadows, their red eyes gleaming at her. The man yelped and sprinted away with the rest of the crowd.

Natalie turned to face the creatures. More of them? This whole "invasion" thing was beginning to get really old really fast. She reached behind her, following the leather strap on her shoulder down to the handle of a large belt-fed machine gun hanging behind her. Her custom Browning M1919 sported orange decals and an imported ebony wood stock. It had a top-mounted handle and trigger, enabling Natalie to fire it from her hip without having to lift the heavy gun. She swung it around to face them, letting the ammo belt coil beside her on the ground.

The first Grimm spun into a frenzied wheel, speeding toward Natalie. She opened fire with her machine gun, the heavy bullets slamming into the Boarbatusk's thick hide and stunning it as it stumbled toward her. She swung the butt of her gun down onto its head, pummeling it into the ground. The second and third Grimm attacked simultaneously, coming at Natalie from her front left and right sides.

The orange-haired girl smirked and gripped the ammo chain next to her before swinging the whole length out to wrap around the Grimm on her left. She pulled hard on the chain whip, veering the creature into its twin on her right. The two monsters careened into the wall, landing hard in a crumpled heap.

Natalie sighed, leaning against the wall. She hadn't come to Vale to fight Grimm the whole time. Well, actually, she sort of had. Vale's prestigious Beacon Academy was the only chance she had left at becoming a full-fledged Huntress.

Natalie's experience on her chosen career path hadn't been what she would call… successful. It wasn't that she was unskilled; she'd passed the entry exams for the academies in Mistral, Atlas and Vacuo with flying colors. The problems had started later, after she'd been subsequently kicked out of the aforementioned schools. Evidently prestigious, time-honored institutions of higher learning did not appreciate the extraordinary amount of creative effort Natalie put into her graffiti, or the precisely calculated fashionable lateness of each and every one of her tardies. So, here she was, ready to give it her last go at Beacon. Not that it was her last choice, by any means – she would have jumped at the chance to go here. It was just...

"Hey!" The voice of an approaching person shook Natalie from her reverie. A blonde-haired guy with a monkey's tail ran up to her. The newcomer wore a white button-down shirt, open in the front to reveal a golden necklace and some notably muscular abs. He had blue denim pants held up by a white belt, as well as black and yellow sneakers. "Are you okay?" The monkey Faunus seemed alarmed about the pile of dead Grimm next to her.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," said Natalie, brushing off his concerns. "Why do you care so much?"

"Oh, that's because protecting and serving is my new part-time job." The guy fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a golden badge and posing in what Natalie suspected was meant to be an impressive stance. "Sun Wukong, official junior detective as of today!"

"…Wonderful. I'm Natalie." She reached out to shake his other hand, but Sun moved the badge back in front of her face. "Um… nice badge?"

"Thanks!" Sun polished the badge on his shirt before leaning back to inspect it with squinted eyes. "You know, there are a lot of people who can go around and say they're the police, but it's not official unless you have one of these babies!"

"Mm, yes, can't have any false cops going around helping people. I'd only feel safe if the person defending me from ferocious monsters was armed with a very small, very official piece of metal." Natalie looked past him at the panicked crowds running around. "Listen, I'm pretty well protected and served on my own right now. Why don't you go help someone else, or fight Grimm or something?" As she spoke, a figure down the street came into view. It looked to be a male, and he was running toward Natalie and Sun, the opposite of where most people wanted to be at the moment. He had on a scarlet red jacket and dyed blue hair, and seemed to be waving and yelling at them, although it was impossible to hear over the noise the crowds made.

Sun snapped his fingers as Natalie's comment triggered a total recall of his best friend and teammate. "Right! Neptune and I were just on our way to the square to help fight! Come on, partner-" He looked around. "Neptune? Hey! Where'd he go? He was here just a minute ago."

"Um, there's a dude with blue hair waving you down over there." Natalie pointed down the street to the figure she'd seen. "Would that be Neptune?"

"Aha! Yes, that's him, and I've gotta go. Hey, good luck!" Sun called as he raced away to his partner's side. Natalie waved at the two junior detectives as they headed to Vale's center. She watched them until they turned the corner.

"Well, hasn't today just been the most interesting one I've had in a while," Natalie murmured to herself as she turned back in the direction she'd been heading. By this time the street was deserted, so she should make better time. _I do wonder if they'll let me in, though_. The school year was half over now, with the second semester well underway by the time Natalie had even gotten to Vale. She had to question whether or not they'd allow such a late entry to the curriculum. On top of that, what kind of team would she be on, if any? Most academies organized their students into teams of four members in the same year, but Natalie would be an odd person out. _Unless three other complete strangers decide to try enrolling at the same time._ She actually snorted out loud at the last thought.

She had only walked about twenty feet before her thoughts were interrupted by a screeching noise behind her. She sighed and turned around. "What now-" She stopped mid-sentence, jaw dropped, to stare at the sight before her.

A huge steel claw was reaching slowly around the corner of the office building next to her. As she watched, dumbfounded, a second claw emerged, then a third and fourth, followed by a segmented tail and an insectoid body. A huge Death Stalker moved slowly into the street, but this was no ordinary Grimm. In addition to being almost double the size of a normal Death Stalker, the creature's limbs were covered by thick steel plates. Its scarred carapace looked like it had been shattered and welded back together from different sections, and the half of the monster's eyes were replaced with red camera lenses. The creature's tail was covered with metal armor as well, with exposed circuitry and sparking wires running its entire length. In place of the stinger of a normal Death Stalker, this creature had a twisted metal apparatus with multiple circular blades slowly rotating, as well as a short cannon barrel in the center.

Natalie backed away slowly, gripping her gun. "I'm just… gonna… leave… now…"

The huge scorpion-esque Grimm turned to face her. It stared at her intently for so long that Natalie wondered if it could even see her. She felt a drop of sweat work its way lazily down her temple, and she took a shaky breath. Then it let out a bloodcurdling scream, like a cross between the howl of a dying animal and the screech of grinding gears. The girl whirled and sprinted away in the opposite direction in an instant.

Natalie could hear the thundering blows of the giant creature's claws as it chased her down the street. Her first thought was _Oooooohmygodohmygodohmygod!_ Her second, slightly more composed thought was _Dear God, I'm going to die._ After she overcame this initial burst of panic, she tried to think rationally. She'd need to keep her wits about her to kill this... _What in Remnant is this thing?_ She took another glance back at it. The giant… um… Mecha-Death Stalker chasing her obviously wasn't a natural occurrence like most Grimm. It was clearly artificial, given that Natalie hadn't heard any news about the creatures of Grimm suddenly leaping forward a few million years in evolution and developing the ability to weld.

Natalie gulped. But that meant that some person, human or Faunus, had taken the greatest enemy of mankind and made it _worse._ As in, deliberately.

She was so shocked by this revelation that she almost didn't notice the robotic scorpion closing in on her. The blades on its tail appendage spun up like a drill before speeding forward to strike at Natalie. She leapt forward just in time to keep from being hit, narrowly avoiding the stinger. The pavement in the middle of the street was not so lucky; the Grimm's tail strike crushed the asphalt into rubble, and then ground the rubble into smaller rubble with its rotating drill blades.

"Phew," Natalie gasped as she landed nimbly from her jump. "That was close." The Death Stalker swiped at her with its claws, swinging wide and demolishing a fire hydrant and some lampposts in the process. _Alright, this is getting too close for comfort now._ She gripped the top-mounted handle of her gun, pulling it up and unleashing a storm of .30 caliber shots at the offending Grimm. Bullets screeched off the creature's carapace, resulting in a cacophony of clattering noise that almost deafened her. The normally powerful attack had little effect on the armored scorpion's steel exoskeleton, and it roared more out of frustration than pain. "So, you don't like bullets, huh? Then you'll like this even less!" Natalie snapped out her chain whip to wrap around the monster's stinger, pulling hard in an effort to keep it from moving.

This proved to be a mistake as the Death Stalker simply pulled its tail up, flinging Natalie into the air with ease. _Well, that just worked out SUPER great, didn't it?_ thought Natalie as she sailed over the Grimm. The creature watched her land before roaring and firing a shell from its tail cannon. The explosion knocked Natalie back before she could recover from her fall, and she slammed hard into the side of an abandoned-looking warehouse. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, and her head swam from the impact.

Natalie shook herself into focus and grimaced. This wasn't going to work. _I might have to fall back on some of my… other moves._ She glanced at the buildings around her. The Grimm had chased her several blocks from the city center before engaging her, so they were pretty far from where she'd first seen it. _The outskirts of town. No people, that's good. And most importantly, lots and lots of abandoned buildings._ Natalie felt a plan formulating in her head, and by the time she stood up from the cracked sidewalk, she had a new gleam of confidence in her eyes.

"Alright, you big stupid scorpion… robot… thing!" she yelled at it. "I'm about ready to mop the floor with your ugly face, so this is your last chance to get outta town!"

The Death Stalker replied with another deafening screech-howl.

Natalie smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She hefted her gun and fired another volley of shots at the Grimm, angering it. The giant scorpion charged at her, swinging its claws wildly at its newfound arch-nemesis. Natalie swiftly jumped to the side, allowing the Death Stalker to slam headlong into the warehouse Natalie had crashed into earlier.

Natalie closed her eyes, concentrating and summoning her strength. The reddish-orange shroud of her aura appeared around her, growing more and more intense with every second. With a shout, she rushed toward the creature and slammed both her fists into its side as hard as she could.

The air around her fists cracked, as if she had punched a pane of glass, and the ground shook slightly as the giant Death Stalker rocked back from the impact of her blows. It was crushed against the warehouse, causing cracks to run up the concrete walls. _Almost there,_ Natalie thought. The scorpion, now heavily damaged, tried to retaliate by striking at her with its tail, but Natalie twisted around to deflect the blow into the ground next to her with her gun.

The Grimm moved back and howled at her, aiming its tail cannon for a final attack. Natalie backed up against the wall, which was now perilously unstable. She swung upward with her chain whip just as the scorpion fired, hooking on to a section of the wall above her. As the explosive shell impacted, she sprinted forward and leapt onto the Death Stalker's carapace, pulling down hard on the wall. The destabilized structure groaned, then collapsed slowly over Natalie and the Death Stalker. The tortured Grimm screamed as it was crushed by the rubble, and Natalie scrambled to escape the falling rocks and structural steel girders. A huge cloud of dust began to rise around the destroyed building as the monster's roars faded slowly, echoing across the newly created clearing.

Several minutes passed before a slab of rock shifted, and a small hand emerged from the rubble. Natalie, battered and bruised, pushed some rocks out of the way and crawled from the wreckage, coughing as she stood and surveyed the mess she had caused. "Well. That was destructive." She looked around for any remains of her opponent.

A few yards away laid the severed tail of the robotic Death Stalker, scorched and smoking. Natalie picked her way through the crumbled walls to inspect it.

"Stupid tail thing." She muttered as she kicked it, causing a small panel to fall off. Natalie was about to walk away when she noticed a small, shimmering light from the space that had just opened up on the tail. She leaned down to examine it further.

Natalie peered inside to find a small screen producing a fuzzy image and some crackling noises. She squinted. Was that shadowy outline… a person? She reached in and grabbed the screen to shake it. "Hello? Is anyone there?" The display winked out unexpectedly, and Natalie heard more metallic clanking noises from the tail. She glanced up to see that the magazine of the tail's cannon had been exposed. Red numbers counted down on the exterior casings of the explosive shells.

 _00:05… 00:04… 00:03… 00:02…_

"What the-"

Natalie was stopped mid-sentence as her vision was filled with a white light. Her ears filled with a roar, then a high-pitched whine. She vaguely felt the sensation of falling, and she blinked a few times. Slowly, she realized she was hurtling through the air hundreds of feet above the city.

She could feel unconsciousness overtaking her. She welcomed it. Slowly, her mind drifted off as she fell to the earth…

* * *

 **Ooh, suspense. I hope. I really sort of ripped the band-aid by posting this first chapter. I'm quite nervous about how the story will work out. Like, what if no one reads this and I'm talking to myself here? Does a tree falling in an empty forest make any noise when it hits the ground? AM I EVEN REAL?**

 **Follow and review, please. :)**


	2. Chapter 2: An Assassin

**Hello, internets.**

 **(I've always wanted to say that.)**

 **Wow. That was really fast. And, I might say, a bit more fun to write than Chapter 1. And I know what some of you are thinking about the title. "Wow, another second chapter titled after an assassin? Lame." I think that too. Nothing good came to mind. So sue me.**

 **Well, my last opening author's note was huge, so this one will be really short.**

 **Anyhow, here you go. Have fun with Chapter 2.**

* * *

 _Two weeks ago_

The bushes rustled softly around Agent 1 as she army-crawled her way through the thick jungle undergrowth. Humid, viscous air filled her lungs with every breath, and her clothes, already soiled by the damp mud she was crawling through, clung to her skin like they were trying to strangle her. The whine of mosquitos, flies and other insects buzzing in the air sliced through the cavernous silence that filled this rainforest, creating an infuriating sense of contradiction. The conditions of the assignment were enough to drive anyone insane. Nevertheless, the young woman's mind was clear and her focus was one hundred percent on the mission at hand. It was why her superiors had picked her for this job; it was why she was the best.

She glanced down at the glowing display of her wrist unit. A small, topographical GPS map portrayed in green lines informed her that she was approaching her target. 1 pulled herself forward to the edge of a small, rocky ledge. She took hold of a large, broad-leafed branch that obscured her view. Drawing a knife from her upper arm sheath, she slashed through it and discarded the limb, returning her attention to the scene below. Even in the midst of the night's darkness, she could see every detail.

The thick, verdant jungle canopy was visible for countless miles in any direction from the outcropping she was perched on. Directly at the base of the cliff, though, it was rudely interrupted by a rather sizable clearing. Stacks of cut tree trunks lined the edges, and severed stumps were scattered throughout the middle. The huge industrial machines that had wrought this artificial disturbance on the peaceful tranquility of the forest also lay dormant. Several white buildings with roofs and walls of corrugated metal sat on raised trailers. The most unsettling presence on the compound, though, was that of about a dozen large cages situated in the middle of the clearing. They rested under the scrutinous gaze of a few towering floodlights, which shook periodically as whatever was in the cages roared thunderously.

The young agent wasted no time. She slid her knife into its sheath on her arm, looking around to ensure that she left no sign of having been there. After removing the branch she'd cut back earlier, she took a deep breath, held it, then leapt over the edge.

The wind whistled through her hair, giving her some relief from the stagnant air that had plagued her for the last six hours or so. She closed her eyes, enjoying the blissful breeze for a while, before cracking them open. The ground was getting awfully close now. She really should probably do something to avoid being transformed into a smear on the jungle floor. Agent 1 sighed, reaching to the back of her black combat jacket to pull open two zippers that ran parallel to her spine. Powerful muscles moved against her back, and she could feel soft feathers sliding against her skin. Two sleek black wings unfolded from her back, quickly billowing upward as they caught the draft of her downward fall. She decelerated quickly, reaching the forest floor and landing softly.

1 folded her wings and tucked them away again, drawing her main combat knife from the back of her waist as she sprinted toward the lighted clearing she'd spotted earlier. The clearing's activities were the work of an illegal logging company, but even as sketchy as its operations were, it wasn't the reason she was here. The company had recently taken on a side practice in addition to its habits of deforestation; the unique and particularly dangerous Grimm that inhabited the area were being captured and trafficked out of the area, at the discretion of whichever buyers had the deepest pockets. 1's superiors had elected to have her remove the offending Grimm, and eliminate their proprietors.

She reached the edge of the clearing, bursting through the trees and quickly ducking behind a stack of logs. She filtered out the musty smell of wet wood from her mind, instead focusing on finding her targets. Four of the white trailer buildings she'd seen earlier were dark inside, but the lights of the fifth one shone out prominently, illuminating the ground for a considerable distance around it. Loud voices and music were clearly audible from within, giving 1 the impression that the site's overseers were having some kind of party or celebration inside. She took it as a fortunate opportunity, although part of her wanted to go in and berate them for being so careless in such a dangerous area. She ignored it and made her way toward the Grimm cages on the other end of the compound.

The sounds of snarls, growls and rattling cage bars grew in volume as Agent 1 approached the area where the Grimm were kept captive. Normally holding the creatures alive under any circumstances was a flagrant violation of the laws set forth by inter-kingdom treaties. Notable exclusions to this ruling were scientific research groups that studied them and sought ways to end the threat they posed, and educational institutions (normally the type that trained Hunters and Huntresses, although every now and then a culinary school would acquire a permit to keep Grimm).

The first cage she walked up to contained a slumbering Beowolf, which she passed up as it was not destructive enough for her purposes. It did, however, wake from its sleep at her arrival to snap at her. Its muzzle poked through the bars, but all it could really do to affect 1 was make a racket. The next three cages were linked together to contain a lengthy serpentine body, and she was hissed at twice as she passed by the first and then the second glaring head of a King Taijitu. Several other cages held more Beowolves and some Boarbatusks, but she stopped at the last one. She had to tilt her head back to take in the white, enameled spikes on the Grimm's back. It shifted heavy paws tipped with wickedly sharp claws as the young assassin looked up into the face of the Ursa Major that she had just roused from its torpor.

 _This one should serve._

1 stepped back from the cages, casually licking her finger and holding it into the wind. _Eastern-bound breeze. Around 7 kph._ She headed east, downwind of the cages. The rhythmic _ssh-ssh_ of the wet grass her feet swung through gradually overcame the annoyingly racket of sounds the Grimm were making in their prisons. She selected a tree at random as she approached the edge of the clearing; a walnut tree of medium height. Agent 1 didn't know if walnut trees were native to this area. She didn't care. She climbed the tree high enough for a decent view of the cages from which she had just departed. The owners of the illicit operation, having been pulled away from their party by all the commotion, were stomping angrily toward the cages, shouting at the creatures within and gesticulating wildly as if they could be understood.

1 drew her knife for the third time that evening, clicking a button to convert it to its second form. The knife, about forearm length, had a molded handgrip and a black metal crossguard. The blade was silver, with a thick black section in the center; now the tip split apart, allowing the black section to telescope out to roughly double its previous length, forming two parallel metal rods.

1 slid a magazine of needle-like metal flechettes into the receiving port on the crossguard. The men by the cages seemed insistent that the Grimm go back to sleep before they left.

She took an optic sight from her belt and locked it into place above the handle, parallel to the metal rods. She peered through the adjustable scope, settling on 8x zoom. It wasn't something she needed to make the shot, but 1 liked to be sure. Through it she could clearly make out the details of the man closest to the Ursa Major's cage. He was overweight, had a bushy beard and looked flushed from the stifling jungle weather.

Her crosshairs lingered between his eyes for just a moment, before she thought better of it. _If I give the others cause to run, some of them might escape._ She switched targets, exhaled, and her finger tightened on the trigger.

Inside the weapon 1 held, a Gauss rifle, a single metal flechette was released from the magazine into the weapon's chamber. Magnetic coils in the two metal rods charged up, taking hold of the projectile and pulling it forward. Within 0.07 seconds, the flechette reached a speed of four kilometers per second. It exited the miniaturized railgun with the approximate kinetic force an SUV would carry doing sixty on a freeway. The entire process was silent, save for the _crunch_ emitted by the tortured metal of the lock on the Ursa's cage as it liquified. The door squeaked open quietly as the latch released.

An entire Shakespearian drama seemed to commence across the face of the bearded man. His expression displayed confusion, then changed to shock before he seemed to finally settle on terror. Similar emotional turmoil took place on the features of the other poachers as the massive Grimm stalked out of its cage, shouldering the door open wider as it did so. Each _boom_ of its thunderous footsteps echoed off the edges of the clearing with an eerie sense of finality. The bearded man backed away hesitantly, trying to avoid attracting attention from the Ursa.

Then the locks on the other cages exploded in shrapnel, detonating sequentially down the line as they were hammered by 1's rifle. The contents walked, crawled, and slithered out, stretching their muscles after weeks of confinement. This whole intake of information was too much for one worker, who lost consciousness and simply collapsed to the Ursa took this as its cue to charge forward at the group of poachers with a throaty roar, causing them to panic and scatter. Grimm from the rest of the cages rapidly caught up to them, cutting off their escape routes. It was over quickly.

Agent 1 watched the whole scene through her optic lens. She felt nothing, no twinge of emotion for those who lost their lives in front of her eyes. She counted the men as they were attacked to make sure none were missed. The employers of this outfit had been foolish not to send any guards to the facility; no less than a Hunter-class fighter would have been needed to fend off the powerful Grimm in the area. The carnage had ended by now, and the creatures were beginning to take their leave. Curiously, most species of Grimm did not seem to have a taste for human flesh, which raised the question of where their ferocity stemmed from. A question it was not her prerogative to answer.

1 collapsed her rifle, stowing the scope on her belt. She dropped down from the limb she'd been perched on, flipping nimbly between branches on her way to the ground. The earth rushed up to meet her, and she planted both booted feet on it in a firm landing, dusting herself off before glancing up to find a pair of red eyes staring at her from a demonic, masked face.

Her instincts took over before her eyes even absorbed what kind of life form she was facing. 1 immediately performed a split kick to the beast's face, throwing its head back and staggering it. The Beowolf recovered, shaking its head and inhaling deeply for a howl to summon its pack. Strangely, the only sound that it managed to make was a wet gurgling, and it scrabbled at its throat to find that a knife hilt stuck out from under its chin. The beast's eyes filled with a red fury, communicating a hatred that its now muted vocal cords couldn't.

1 sat in a low stance, another throwing knife already out in her left hand. Her main weapon still occupied her right. The Beowulf stepped forward, throwing a slash that was ducked under with ease. 1 followed her dodge with a cut to the Grimm's vulnerable shoulder, then a slash across its back. The beast swung its other arm around behind it to backhand her, but she caught its wrist and kicked its ankle out, throwing it off balance and onto the ground. Three more quick stabs to the right shoulder put the limb out of action. 1 flipped back from the beast, waiting for it to make the next move.

The white mask of the Beowulf didn't show shame, regret or fear like a human fighter would. The beast stood up, glaring at its opponent darkly. Then it turned away from her, and began to trot lopsidedly into the forest. As it grew further away, the sound of its footsteps and the throaty, guttural rhythms of its breath grew quieter and quieter.

1 waited to make sure it was gone, then relaxed her posture. She felt no need to follow the creature and finish it; no such clause was detailed in her mission, and it was therefore unnecessary. The agent reached down to activate her wrist GPS, sending out a locator beacon for her retrieval team to pick up. Headquarters was a five-hour flight from her coordinates, so she settled in for a long wait.

* * *

In the time the stealth-black Bullhead picked her up and landed back at base, Agent 1 sat in silence with the retrieval squad. The only sounds were the quiet whisper of the aircraft's blades and the occasional squawk of radio chatter from the cockpit. One of the men next to her looked fairly young and somewhat nervous, most likely a new recruit. He glanced over to her several times, interested to see his first glimpse of one of the renowned agents that made up the core of their organization. She ignored him.

The moment the wheels touched concrete in the aircraft hangar, 1 was already walking briskly into the network of tunnels built into the mountainside headquarters. _I have to hand in this mission report as soon as possible._ Her boots _thump_ ed loudly as she walked through the whitewashed halls, glowing light panels in the floor and ceiling lighting the space. She brushed past several desk workers dressed for business in the sparsely populated halls, but only one of them crossed over to walk next to her briskly.

"1!" he called. "Hey, wait up. I want to hear about your mission. How did it go?"

Eric Detrich, an operations officer, had on a sharp-looking suit and a forest green tie. He organized missions and was in charge of notification and deployment of agents. He was more of an executive; technically higher up the ladder than she was but by no means her superior. His eyebrows were still raised in anticipation of an answer to his question.

"The mission went well. The targets were exterminated, I went undetected, the Grimm are no longer a consideration." She spoke briskly, her voice hardly changing pitch as her faintly clipped accent enunciated the words carefully and concisely. "I'm going to see the commander now for a debriefing."

"Now?" Detrich asked. "Right now? As in, you're walking there at this moment?" He glanced over her mud-splotched uniform, inhaling slightly only to gag at the scent. "Shouldn't you, ya know, take a shower and change? You sort of smell bad."

"That would be prohibitive to the express delivery of this report. It is standard protocol to deliver mission reports as soon as possible after…"

Detrich cut her off abruptly. "Yes, yes, after the completion of the mission. But it's also important for you to clean up and get a fresh uniform 'as soon as possible' before going to see the big boss. You've got to make yourself presentable. It's important." 1 opened her mouth to protest, but the executive kept going. "Really, this disregard for general etiquette needs to stop, Cath-"

Eric caught himself, but Agent 1 cringed anyway. She hated when people didn't use her designated codename. An uncomfortable silence took over as the two continued walking. Finally 1 spoke. "I think I will go and clean up as you suggested."

Detrich seemed relieved. "Good, that's good… Yeah, so I've got some, er, files, that I have to organize for a meeting later, so I, ah, have to go and do that."

Agent 1 nodded and turned sharply down a hallway to the right, leaving the confused man to ponder just what was going on in the mind of the organization's best agent-in-training.

* * *

1 stood poised outside the commander's door, hand raised to knock. She had showered and put on a fresh change of her uniform clothes, a white short-sleeved shirt underneath a black flak jacket with black cargo pants. Numerous small sheathes for throwing knives were strapped onto various locations on her body, and she wore standard issue combat boots. Her straight black hair was cropped short at the jawline with two tufts poking up on top, and she had white bandages wrapped around her wrists and palms.

Her knuckles rapped sharply against the solid metal of the commander's door. "Come in," a voice spoke from the other side. She opened the door and walked into the office. The walls were tan, decorated with several plaques and lamps. The central feature of the room was an impressive walnut desk, behind which sat an equally impressive man.

Rumor had it that Commander Sark was ex-military, and he certainly didn't do much to indicate otherwise. The man wore a dark green suit with pockets and a few medals on it. He had a graying buzz cut and a weathered, experienced face. Even sitting down, he seemed to fill the room with an air of dominant, yet restrained confidence. The commander gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Agent 1 sat down stiffly. "Sir, I have my mission report ready from the jungle assignment southwest of Mistral."

"Actually, Catherine, I think that report will be able to wait. There's something else I need to address with you."

The agent straightened at the mention of her given name. "Sir, Catherine O'Neill is my civilian name. Protocol dictates that, while on assignment or on base, agents should be referred to only by their codenames."

Sark waited for her to finish, a courtesy not many people afforded Catherine during her habitual recitations of agency protocol. "Be that as it may, I think it's best if you start getting used to hearing that name. You'll be using it a lot on your next assignment."

Catherine cocked her head. "Sir?"

The commander stood from his desk, bringing himself up to his considerable full height, and began to pace back and forth. "Catherine, this agency was founded many years ago by some very powerful people. No government controls our actions, no military supplies our soldiers. Few know of our existence and even fewer are out of our reach should we wish to silence them. Do you know what the goals were that those founders had in mind?"

"Yes, sir." she replied. "To employ the finest personnel in assassination and espionage and deploy them throughout Remnant in order to influence world events."

"Precisely." Sark reached one end of his paces and turned on his heel. "And you are one of those personnel, the product of many years' training and education. Your skills are unmatched in stealth, efficiency, killing. You have only one more mission ahead of you before your training is complete." The commander's latest stride ended at the edge of his desk, from which he picked up a slim manila envelope using two fingers. He leaned over and handed it to her.

Catherine accepted the envelope, unfolding the cover. Her gray eyes scanned back and forth over the lines of the first page, widening more and more with each pass. She looked up at her commander. "Sir… I do not understand. I have been fully educated in combat, history, and almost everything else this academy offers. I graduated top of my class from basic training. Why am I being assigned to Beacon Academy?"

Sark reclaimed his seat behind the desk, clasping his fingers together and leaning forward. "Catherine - Agent 1 - You are the perfect stealth machine. You can hide in an empty room; you can shoot the tips off matchsticks from five hundred meters away. You can infiltrate any building in the world without detection, eliminate any target without being suspected. You obey orders without hesitation. The only remaining flaw in your ability…" Sark paused. Catherine displayed no reaction to his words, not even a glimmer of emotion. He sighed.

"The flaw is your ability itself. You are too good at going unnoticed, too emotionless to be completely effective. You could not feign laughter or sadness, if you ever realized those were appropriate reactions to any situation. Some information in this world is not written on a paper that can be stolen, or stored on a computer that can be hacked. That information, those _secrets,_ are known only to certain people. People who would never dream of speaking them aloud, let alone telling another soul they didn't trust with absolute certainty. Those are the most valuable secrets, the things most worth knowing. Those are the secrets that you could never access, because you do not know _people._ " Sark stopped to let the appraisal sink in to his most promising trainee. He did not expect her to disagree. That would require her to be offended, which was a highly unlikely occurrence.

Agent 1 let the information flow through her mind. For the first time in many years she was surprised. That her renowned abilities had just been criticized scathingly should have angered her, but it did not. Catherine wondered if she was expected to respond, and if so, what she should say. The commander saved her this inconvenience, however, as he resumed his speech.

"For this reason, Catherine, your assignment now is to become an ordinary student. A Huntress, yes, but in every other respect you must learn to become like the vast majority of people your age. Have friends, go to parties, tell jokes. You will be able to blend in out in the open, and, more importantly, gain the trust of almost anyone. After this final training mission, possibly the toughest you will have ever endured, you will be without question the finest agent among our ranks."

Catherine thought over this. She did not speak for a long time. A chance to better herself for the good of the agency… certainly something she found appealing. But at the same time something deep inside her shuddered at the thought of going to this place. Although, then again, it was neither her place nor her right to refuse. Catherine looked back up at Commander Sark.

"When do I leave?"

* * *

And that was how Catherine ended up on a rooftop in Vale, picking off Grimm with her rifle on the day a certain team of reckless teenage girls blew up a train underneath the middle of the city.

She wasn't aware of that particular detail, of course. Helping out against the invasion was just the best way she had been able to think of to build up a positive reputation, thereby convincing Beacon's administrators to let her in.

Another Ursa's head exploded after a hardened metal flechette pierced its eye at high speed. Catherine quickly switched targets, took aim, and pulled the trigger again. Beast after beast she brought down, only pausing occasionally to exchange an emptied clip with a full one from her belt. She had just sighted another Boarbatusk in her crosshairs when a bright glint, shining in the afternoon sun, flashed in front of her target and blinded her through the scope. Her shot went wide, cracking a chunk of white concrete off the sidewalk next to her target.

Catherine grimaced and lowered the scope to investigate the object that had thrown her off. The said object was moving quite fast, weaving in and out of the other Grimm in its hurry. Startlingly, it seemed to be making its way toward the building she had settled on as her snipers' nest. Without gunpowder, her rifle was silent and, without a sound to be attracted to, most of the creatures below had been unsuccessful in locating their bane at the top of the seven-story building. This unidentified silver and black blur had no such troubles, sprinting toward Catherine's location recklessly. She figured it would give her no trouble, being as far below her as it was-

And then, as it reached the bottom floor of the tower, the blur took a flying leap from the ground, cracking the concrete where it pushed off. It slammed into the side of the building and, rather than rebounding off or skidding back down, it simply continued running pell-mell straight up the wall. A trail of shattered windows and shredded plaster was left behind its route, and it approached Catherine fast enough to make her scramble back from the edge where she'd perched. It reached the edge of the roof and soared into the air from sheer momentum. _What... is that?_ She stared at it, her brain not quite believing the information her eyes were sending it, until gravity took hold of it and pulled it down to land on the roof, where she got a better look.

The creature resembled a Beowolf, albeit only vaguely. Masked in a steel version of the faceplate normally worn by this particular species of Grimm, complete with red linear markings, the Beowolf also had metal claws and spikes on its arms and legs. Its chest and neck were encased in an armored steel frame, which supported a fully mechanical right foreleg. The prosthetic limb looked bulkier than its natural counterpart on the left, and was armed with a jagged blade that jutted from above the claws. The beast reared back and growled, but something about the sound was odd, like an ordinary Grimm's voice had been recorded and digitized.

Then it hit her. The right arm, the neck, the glare in its eyes. This creature was the same one that Catherine had fought and defeated in the jungle two weeks ago. Obviously the poachers' employers who had been after it had gotten it back, and had certainly been busy.

The Beowolf tensed its legs up and crouched for another jump, so Catherine leapt back from it, keeping her rifle close. Powerful muscles propelled the Grimm high up into an aerial flip, and it arced toward her with razor claws extended. She brought her rifle up to bear, aiming quickly at the rapidly approaching beast. There was time for her to squeeze off several body shots, but the projectiles crumpled harmlessly against its armor plating. Seemingly at the last second, Catherine moved the barrel up and fired one last desperate shot. The beast was treated to an unpleasant surprise as her perfectly timed attack nailed it in the right eye, throwing its head back and its body off balance.

The Beowolf landed bodily next to her as she rolled away, drawing a throwing knife from her leg and switching her Gauss rifle into its dagger mode. Without a bladed edge, the longer and bulkier form was less suited to her agile close-range combat. Catherine's opponent recovered quickly, regaining its footing and lunging at her with its bladed cybernetic appendage. The eye it had just been shot in didn't appear to slow it down at all. She caught the strike on her larger weapon, supporting it with her smaller blade. Even having blocked, the force of the impact still pushed her back several feet across the rooftop, boots skidding on the rough surface. The Beowolf leaned forward to give itself more leverage in the struggle as the pneumatics in its arm whined, pushing harder and harder against Catherine's guard. She gritted her teeth, her body straining to resist the powerful beast.

The stalemate ended when the Beowolf suddenly swept its arm to the side, and the force she'd built up pushing against its blade threw her into a forward lunge, her guard left totally open. Her eyes went wide, and she felt as though she were suspended in time as the Grimm slowly raised its metal arm beside her. She gasped even before it swung the limb downward.

The attack bludgeoned her into the rooftop, cracking the stone structure and rumbling through the whole building. A circular pressure wave erupted from the epicenter of impact, like a miniature sonic boom. Catherine felt like she was being hit by a mortar shell; the intensity of the pain was shocking. Her aura cushioned the blow somewhat, and kept the blade from cutting her, but she was primarily a long-range fighter. She relied mostly on distance and agile dodges to avoid taking damage, so her aura reserves were smaller and her defenses weaker than those of close-combat fighters.

The Beowolf stood over Catherine, observing the effects of its assault with its good eye. She laid there in the crater taking slow, shaky breaths, each one wracking her body with pain. She bit back the tears that pricked her eyes. Her aura went to work healing the worst of the damage, but it would be a few minutes before she was completely restored. _I cannot afford to take another hit like that one._

The agent pushed herself up one one arm, bruised torso aching in protest, and rolled away from the creature. Her foe began to circle her as she moved toward the edge of the building. Catherine strategized for a moment, deciding to try and provoke it; since all its other hits on her had been surprise attacks, knowing when to dodge should give her an advantage. She switched her weapon back to rifle mode and quickly brought up the barrel, not bothering to use a scope.

She hadn't even gotten to shoot yet before the Beowolf attacked. Her plan worked a little too well, in fact: it suddenly sprinted forward on all fours in a full-body tackle, moving too quickly for her to duck sideways without being hit. The only direction she had available was backward, off the top of a seven-story skyscraper. Having little choice to begin with, she took her only option and moved toward the edge. _At least this way I will be able to avoid a direct impact._ The Beowolf had about ten feet to go before it plowed into her, so she held her breath and crouched on the edge.

No matter how many times she did it, and even though she was part bird, Catherine could never get used to throwing herself off ledges at insane heights. The feeling of weightlessness, then the gut-wrenching, nauseous sensation of gravity reaching up to grab her and accelerate her suddenly toward the ground. She repeated the experience for the umpteenth time after falling off the building backward. The robotic Beowolf followed suit, hurtling off the edge at a much higher speed than she. It reached out at Catherine, snarling, but she could see that it was on a course to miss her entirely. She undid her jacket zippers as it sailed over her and she spread her wings, gliding in a gentle circle to slow her descent.

The Beowolf, woefully ill-equipped for BASE jumping, did not have wings. It did, however, weigh about half a ton more than a standard specimen of its class of Grimm, thanks to all the half-inch thick plate steel someone had thoughtfully welded onto its body. After exiting the rooftop, its momentum carried it clear across the avenue in an arcing descent. It slammed heavily into the concrete side of the building opposite the one they had fought on, rebounding off with a pained yelp. Its rapid fall continued until it was rudely interrupted by an enormous mass composed mainly of carbon and silicon, known to most people as "the ground." The impact of the falling Grimm shook the asphalt, creating an almost comical Beowolf-shaped indentation in the street.

Catherine flapped her wings to get her back up to rooftop altitude, landing nimbly on the flat surface. She peered downward to the earth below to see what had become of her foe. It almost made her discount it entirely, seeing how hard it hit. Surely nothing in Remnant could survive such a fall. But, even as the thought crossed her mind, something stirred in the crater seven stories below her.

The Beowolf's steel arm dug into the concrete, dragging a furrow in the ground as it pulled itself out of the hole. The limb had been horribly warped by the fall, and the rest of the monster's body was not faring much better. Alive it was though, standing before her. Catherine sighed and raised her rifle.

A shot to its left shoulder. Another to the base of its spine. The thing was still clinging to life, barely breathing. She inhaled, and pulled the trigger. Her last flechette nailed the beast straight in its already-damaged right eye, and it laid still.

Catherine leaned back against the lip of the roof. She breathed heavily, lowering her aura's defenses and letting it focus fully on healing her. _What an ordeal. I wonder if I will face anything else that strong at Beacon._ Just then, another rumble shook the streets, easily as strong as the one caused by the Beowolf's landing. Startled, she searched the horizon for the source of the disturbance. Over toward the warehouse district, a plume of gray-brown dust rose prominently over the cityscape. She scrutinized it for several minutes.

Then another explosion emanated from the site, changing the plume from light gray to a burnt charcoal-black. Something else happened, too: a blurry object hurtled upward, presumably having been propelled by the explosion. Catherine's owl eyes missed nothing, immediately focusing in on the object. It was vaguely orange, and the shape looked familiar- _No,_ She thought. _It's a person…!_

Catherine stretched her wings. It seemed as though she wasn't done flying for the day. She crouched and leaped up, catching an updraft into the midmorning sky and heading toward the object as fast as she could fly. As she vacated the field of her battle with her mechanical foe, her eyes were focused elsewhere as the red eye of the fallen Beowolf gleamed. Briefly, so briefly that it might not have been there save for the faint crackle sound given off, a grainy static showed through the electronic lens.

And for a moment only, it coalesced into the hazy black silhouette of a man…

* * *

 **So, there's the second chapter. Just to inform all of the people who even know this story exists (not many, I imagine), this is an uncharacteristically short period between chapter posts. This was half written when I posted Chapter 1, so don't get any ideas that I'm actually going to hold myself to any kind of regular schedule. I'm a high school student. Self-discipline is to me as Princess Toadstool is to Mario.**

 **You know, I really need a catchy sign-off. Like at the end of every episode of DBZ, the guy would say something like, "Will this latest tyrant succeed in his nefarious plan? Can Goku and his friends stop the destruction of Earth for yet another time? Will Namek ever actually explode after Frieza blows up the core? Find out, on the next exciting episode of DRAGON BALL Z!" If I could get that kind of thing going, it'd be great. Post ideas in the comments…?**

 **So, ya know, follow, favorite and review, I guess, and thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: Tea Leaves and Omens

**Hey, everybody!**

 **So, you either know what's happening soon and are excited, or you're about to hear some really great news. RWBY VOLUME THREE IS BEING RELEASED STARTING TOMORROW! At long last, the hiatus is over. Also, I'm interpreting this long-awaited event as a positive omen for the story. You know, volume three, chapter three… Clearly this is a product of fate. It could also conceivably have been the Illuminati. Anyway, the third chapter is here now, so journey on, fearless reader!**

* * *

Cyril inhaled deeply, breathing in the leafy scent of his chai tea. Warm wisps of steam rolled upward from his ceramic mug in intricate, swirling patterns, visible for the briefest of seconds before they dissipated into the cool morning air. He gripped the cup gently with both hands, savoring the heat as he brought the edge to his mouth to sip at its contents. The flavor was… vaguely fruity, with a slight herbal aftertaste. Not what he'd expected from this particular blend. Cyril made a mental note of his tea experience, exhaling deeply and leaning forward.

This movement proved to be a mistake. The tiny surface he was sitting cross-legged on leaned forward at an alarming rate, as did his tea, which sloshed over the side of the cup. The small dish of smoldering ashes he'd used to boil the tea spilled off as well. Cyril quickly adjusted his center of gravity backward, stretching his arm out to catch the droplets of tea flying through the air. He sat in the awkward pose for a moment to stabilize himself before carefully moving back to the meditative position he'd held a minute ago. _I'm glad I didn't fall. That might have made for a rather painful descent after such a peaceful climb._

It had been rather difficult to get up to his current location. Cyril sat poised on the tip of a slim metal staff, balanced vertically on a spiky rock outcropping that jutted out from the side of a precipitous cliff. The wispy clouds beneath him formed whorls and ripples as they moved along the rock face under him, giving the transparent air flow a visible form. The wind at his altitude was mercifully gentle, and aside from the near-plummet he had just avoided there had been no disturbance to his amicable meditation thus far. He was almost finished reflecting on what the day might bring, so he'd be descending soon anyway.

Cyril had a short, almost shaven haircut and a round, friendly face. His garb was simple; a grayish-purple corduroy button-down shirt, loose-fitting, tan linen pants, and brown hiking shoes. He also wore a bundled, white scarf-like garment that wrapped around over his shoulders and fell down behind him like a short cape. He had a brown satchel slung over his back with straps to hold his staff.

He yawned. Way down there, past the little black-speckled flocks of birds and cloudy atmospheres was a city, he was sure of it. His two-day trek up the mountain had taken him up three cliffs, across several glaciers and over at least one bottomless crevasse, landmarks that were tough to miss. Cyril reached back, wary of his teetering platform, into his backpack to retrieve a folded piece of paper. The parchment made loud crinkling sounds as he unfolded it, grappling with the blustery wind that threatened to tear it from his grip. He was finally able to spread it flat on his lap, revealing a detailed map of the region.

Cyril studied the map carefully for a minute, his gaze flickering over the little colored markings. His eyes widened for a moment when he compared his location to his landmarks, which indicated he was way off target. Then he squinted, doubtful, and turned the map ninety degrees, then ninety degrees the other way. _Ah! There we go._ He sighed in relief. The city of Vale should be directly southwest of him. Cyril stuffed the map back into his pack and started trying to figure out how to get down from his cliff.

* * *

The kingdom's urban area had lots of wide open squares with numerous shady trees. Many of its citizens were walking around town, taking in the beautiful spring weather. Cyril thought it was a wonderful place. They even had a tea shop, the Vytal Tea Exchange, which he promptly visited.

It was only one of a myriad of eclectic little stores that he passed by on his stroll around the city. It was still early, and the sun's rays had just begun to peek up cautiously over the horizon of the secluded kingdom. They softly illuminated the weathered concrete segments of sidewalk that lined the graying asphalt roadways, still dark with the dampness of early morning mists. At one point he became lost in the multitude of similar-looking streets and alleys, so he petitioned two helpful junior policemen for directions back toward the center of town. One of them had a boldly trendsetting blue haircut, which Cyril complimented as he left them.

After seeing what the city had to offer, Cyril found himself seated at a wooden park bench with a purchased sandwich and another hot cup of loose-leaf chai tea. His hike down the mountain earlier had been arduous at best, and he was tired and hungry after that and his tour of the town. His sandwich disappeared in a few hungry bites, but the tea followed in a much more relaxed manner.

As he drained the contents of the mug, the young man glanced down at the saturated leaves left stuck to the bottom of the container. _Hmm… I wonder what it is this time?_ In some cultures, tea leaves in the bottom of one's cup could be interpreted as omens of events yet to come. Cyril was familiar with several meanings, but so far in his experience the predictions had rarely been accurate. There was the time he'd seen an apple, which represented great success, then accidentally caused a military-grade explosion in chemistry… _Not my finest moment._ This time around, the leaves seemed rather more jumbled than usual, but he thought he could make out…

Cyril sucked in his breath. _The octopus_. A dangerous sign, indicating a horrible disaster in the near future. The sign of the octopus was said to have preceded all of the most destructive events in the history of Remnant. Tsunamis, wars, earthquakes… the fact that it was appearing now could mean only that the long peace enjoyed by the kingdoms to date was about to be interrupted.

But, in all honesty, he had to consider how often, or rather, how rarely he had been right in the past. The likelihood of anything happening was, in reality, quite low. To look around and see the leaves of the quiet side park's trees gently wavering in the breeze, then shaking as a tiny chipmunk scurried past them on the branch, and to think that the perfect scene could be destroyed… no. It probably meant nothing. Cyril put down his cup, discarding his ominous and pessimistic thoughts, then leaned back on the bench and yawned. The sun was warmer now, having cut through the early morning fog, and the combination of radiant warmth and a full stomach made him drowsy.

He wasn't about to object, either. He settled his staff and backpack on the bench next to him, and leaned down to lay sideways on the seat, using the pack as a pillow. Cyril was out like a light in no time at all, falling into a restful slumber to dream of sunshine, cities and octopi.

* * *

The first rumbles worked their way into Cyril's REM cycle. He knew they were there, knew on some level that things were happening outside his immobile physical body in the real world, but his subconsciousness prevented full awareness of this fact. More came, louder and with greater frequency, and Cyril struggled to raise eyelids that seemed to be made of lead. Open, they flashed a glimpse of a shaking landscape and clouds of dust rising into the sky from the city center. Closed, he knew nothing, drifted in the oblivion of sleep for a little moment longer. Open again, they saw a black creature step forward from a shadowy side street, shaking rubble from its fur. Closed again, more blissful ignorance but with a vague, nagging feeling of worry and hurriedness.

Cyril squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them wide open, properly this time. The low rumbles from before changed from faded, whispery sounds into the harsh noises of a city in panic. He pushed himself from the bench, shaking the grogginess from his head. Another shudder went through the ground, almost throwing Cyril to the ground as he stood hastily. _What in Remnant is going on?_ He spotted the glow of a television through the window of a coffee shop at the edge of his little side park, and made a beeline for it.

A bell attached to the door clanged noisily as Cyril burst through the entrance of the shop. He was met with the low hum of quiet conversations going on across the tables of the shop, as the customers heatedly discussed the myriad possibilities of what had happened in the central square. A flat-screen television showed a channel transitioning from a male reporter to a brown-haired female newscaster for the VNN news.

"And that's our latest news on the Grimm invasion of Vale proper. Again, for your safety the authorities are advising everyone to stay indoors and away from any windows or openings to the streets. The Atlesian military, already en route to Vale for the Vytal festival, has been alerted and is sending ahead assault units to suppress what is being called 'the breach.' We're told Beacon academy has also been notified, and trained Huntsmen and Huntresses will be arriving soon to assist with the fighting." She stopped and lifted a hand to her ear, listening for a moment.

"This just in: we're getting live footage of the town square where the breach is being combatted by a group of unidentified persons." The screen underwent another sweeping transition to an aerial feed of the town square, with the VNN logo rotating in the corner. Creatures of Grimm poured out from a huge crater in the center of the square in black clouds, only for one of four vibrantly clad people to cut, smash or blast the groups apart.

 _Good_ , thought Cyril with an inward sigh of relief. _They've got a decent bottleneck of the invasion. Not many will get out into the rest of the city._ That being so, there would still be some, and any Grimm at all was one too many. Cyril straightened, and strode quickly out from the café without listening to the rest of the broadcast. He moved through a few closely-packed customers who turned to shoot him strange looks as he brushed past.

The ringing of the door's bell signaled his transition back into the outside world of chaos. Alarms were going off now, long moaning wails that came and went in a forlorn rhythm. Most of the people walking in the small park had gotten scared and run indoors, but some still lingered, walking around in a confused daze.

Cyril cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "HEY! It isn't safe out here! There are Grimm in the city! Please get inside as quickly as possible!" Some of them still didn't seem to get it. _Why won't they listen!?_ Then the situation got serious.

Across the closed-in quad, from a main street leading into the city center, a pack of Beowolves and Boarbatusks emerged at a loping gait. The closest people to them, a woman and a man, didn't have much time to react before they were set on as targets by the approaching beasts. They fled, but were pursued quickly, with the beasts closing the gap. Cyril had started running as soon as the Grimm had showed up, sliding his staff into his hands, but the animals were just too fast. They were going to reach the couple before he could.

The monk whirled his staff once, slamming the end into the ground like a pole vaulter. At the weapon's base, a small whirlwind whipped up dust in a miniature cyclone, which then blasted upward as Cyril launched up across the park toward the endangered citizens. The Grimm didn't look up as he descended over them, so totally focused on their targets.

The first one, a small Beowolf, slammed headfirst into the ground as Cyril brought down his metal bō staff on its head. He heard bones crunch and teeth crack against the hard pavement. The end of his staff swung under the feet of another wolf-like Grimm, tripping it, then thrusting it backward into its fellows. Several more Boarbatusks and Beowolves met their fate at the receiving end of Cyril's bone-breaking blows, but that did little to deter their comrades. Another group charged forward toward the purple-garbed combatant, eager to tear into the flesh of the enemy they hated so much. The man and woman behind him fled in a panic toward a nearby building entrance.

Cyril shifted his weight forward, digging in with his heels as he leveled the end of the staff at his oncoming foes. He reached into it with his aura, focusing the ambient energy around the weapon's end. Another mini-tornado spun up around the end as the first Grimm approached: a Boarbatusk accelerating toward him with its rotational spinning attack. Cyril exhaled smoothly, then shoved the wind-clad staff forward like a spear. The cyclone on the end of the weapon expanded outward, enveloping the speeding Grimm in a wind tunnel and reversing its momentum entirely.

The still-spinning Boarbatusk physically lifted off the ground as it flew back into the crowd of other Grimm that followed it, whizzing through them like a jet-propelled buzzsaw. The ones it didn't cut in half were bludgeoned by the powerful gusts that came in its wake. The airborne beast skipped once off the ground, then halted after crunching into the stone side of a building.

Cyril relaxed, letting the end of his staff down to the ground. _I hate using that much aura for attacks._ The rest of the square had cleared out in the minutes it had taken him to dispatch the Grimm, so he was alone for now. There might still be others escaping into the city, though – it'd be a better idea to circle the city center and try heading off any more. He slung his staff over his shoulder and started off at a quick jogging pace toward a random side street, running parallel to the smoke rising from the town square.

 _This whole situation is just weird,_ he thought as he ran. _Why would there be a Grimm invasion now, all of a sudden? The kingdom's been keeping up security, and aside from the White Fang troubles, crime is at a definite low. Who would have any reason to let Grimm into the city accidentally, or worse, on purpose-_ THUNK!

Cyril saw stars as he felt something solid crack off his forehead. He looked around to find himself spread-eagled on the concrete sidewalk of an alley corner. Directly opposing him, and also on the ground, was a man dressed in white with orange hair and a bowler hat. He was getting up slowly, clutching his head, but his eyes soon fell on Cyril, and his look of confusion changed to an annoyed scowl.

"Watch where you're going, stupid! Do you know how long it takes to get my hair this perfect in the morning? Imagine if you messed it up. An hour and a half of my valuable time, down the drain." He stood up, leaning on a cane to hoist himself to his feet.

Cyril rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Wow, I completely didn't see you. Sorry about that."

"You'd better be. I have a lot of important things to do, none of which involve being bowled over by idiots. Now if you'll excuse me, my associates and I have to get back to avoiding the massive Grimm invasion." He turned back toward the street to leave.

"Wait, what associates?" Cyril peered around the corner as the red-haired man realized his mistake. The alley was dark, but a dozen or so uniformed individuals wearing masks stood visible in the shadows behind him. Each had an obvious animal trait indicative of a Faunus, and they carried sleek energy firearms. His eyes were drawn immediately to the blood-red symbols on their uniforms: a snarling beast placed over three jagged slashes. Cyril backed up slowly, realization dawning over him as to who these people were.

Roman Torchwick sighed. "Alright. I didn't want to have to resort to this, but… kill him."

Cyril rolled to the side as a cluster of Dust-fueled energy beams impacted right where he'd just been standing. He whirled his staff into an impromptu shield in front of him, blocking a few more shots, before two of the White Fang members charged him. One went to tackle the shaven-headed monk, the other throwing a wild punch at his chest. Cyril dodged the tackle, grabbing the second soldier by the wrist. He twisted in the same direction the punch was traveling, hurling the Faunus into his companion.

The next three came swinging at him with swords, but Cyril defended with his staff and retaliated with swift strikes. He was able to deck the first swordsman in the head, but the second caught his arm with a jab. The monk retreated, opening up more distance between him and his opponents in which to fight. The remaining six White Fang went to advance, but stopped when Roman held up a hand. He picked up his cane, leveling it at Cyril as the teen knocked out his last opponent. A small crosshairs flipped up from the hollow tip of the cane. "Nighty-night," Roman grinned as he pulled the trigger.

A shining Dust flare rocketed out from the end of Roman's cane, changing through a spectrum of colors as it flew toward Cyril. The purple-garbed monk realized how little time he had to react; he reached for his weapon, gripping the staff with both hands. The shining flare was mere feet away when he pulled from the middle of the bō staff. A brightly illuminated explosion detonated out from the point of impact, spreading out a sizable cloud of smoke.

Roman twirled his cane on one hand, flicking down its crosshairs and planting it back against the sidewalk. "A shame, really. He had such a bold style. I'll cherish all of the forty seconds I spent not wanting him dead."

"Well, you'll have to hold off on arranging my funeral. I'm not done just yet!" A clear voice rang out from the epicenter of the Dust round's explosion. The smoke shifted, flowing sideways before dissipating into wispy trails around a large metal semicircle planted in the ground. Roman and the White Fang soldiers stared at the new addition to the street with a mixture of surprise and worry. Cyril hefted his giant Japanese-style fan to the side to look back at the criminals. "That was a close one, I'll admit, and your aim is impeccable. You might have seriously injured me. Unfortunately for you…" He gripped the base of the fan with both hands as grey-green patterns lit up the broad side of the weapon. "…now it's my turn."

Cyril pulled mightily on the fan, swinging it diagonally upward with a roar. An enormous wave of visibly pressurized wind rolled out from the fan toward Roman and the panicking White Fang. The gale-force winds slammed into them like they were cardboard boxes, scattering the group across the concrete of the street. The orange-haired antagonist crouched low to the ground, clutching his black hat against his head as he fought the gusts blowing at him from all sides. The ringing in Roman's ears died quickly along with the wind, and he un-squinted his eyes to look around.

The intimidating group of toughened soldiers he'd recently commanded had been reduced to varying states of disarray. One was laying on the curb with his mask crooked on his face; another hung limply from a corner lamppost by his black sash. Roman rolled his eyes at the incompetence of his troops. _I should've known better than to expect much from these senseless animals._ He was still looking up at the lamppost when he felt a whoosh of air behind him. The notorious criminal spun his cane around deftly to block Cyril's arcing bō strike from behind. "I hadn't nailed you as the type to hit a man from behind. You ought to have more honor than that, shouldn't you, monk?"

"You're one to be talking about honor. When you shot me, you could've hit your own men accidentally, but they didn't even get a second thought. It's people like you that make me lose faith in mankind." Cyril shot back. Roman snickered in response.

"That's the trouble with you idealists. Always with the high expectations. Let me be the first to tell you, people will let you down every time." Roman kicked his opponent in the shin, hard. Cyril's aura cushioned the blow, but he still fell back from the villain. The two combatants faced each other in the street, each poised to attack or defend at a moment's notice, before a long, resonating groan echoed off the buildings around them.

Cyril glanced down at the asphalt and at the buildings behind him, not eager to take his eyes off his foe for longer than a moment. "You didn't have another invasion planned for today, did you?" he queried.

Roman seemed equally suspicious of the noise. "Nah, just the one…"

The awkward silence took over for a minute before the groaning sound returned, this time accompanied by a noise like glass shattering and some gravelly crunches. The shaven-headed monk looked around to find the source of the sounds, no longer focused on Roman. The villain smirked, raising his cane to point at the young man for a second time. Cyril continued searching for something, but when his gaze reached Roman he froze. _He probably realized he's going to lose,_ the orange-haired man thought. His finger tightened against the trigger, but then Cyril took a step back.

Roman's brow furrowed. Why was the monk acting so… petrified? The antagonist knew he wasn't _that_ scary, and stepping back wouldn't help him avoid Roman's attack. He continued holding his flare gun level, but the tense silence was interrupted by a return of the crunching noise from before. It was getting steadily louder, and came from behind him. Cyril broke and ran in the opposite direction, prompting Roman to turn and see what exactly was behind him.

He found his answer in the form of a Grimm thundering down the street toward him. It was bipedal, akin to a scaled-down T-Rex in anatomy, but the resemblance ended there. The beast's signature mask and jaw shone with the glint of hardened steel, and it had thick spikes on its face and neck, running down its spine and the sides of its body to culminate in a mace-like spiked club on its tail. Its thick legs tapered down to glinting metal claws that left furrows in the ground where it stepped. The rest of its black body had gray and rough places, showing thick scar tissue that looked like it had resulted from multiple surgeries.

The creature with said description charged toward Roman full-tilt, changing the groaning noise it emitted into a roar. Panic filled the mind of the notorious Roman Torchwick, and he squeezed off three shots from his cane in the Grimm's direction. They had little effect on the armored dinosaur-like Grimm, as it simply lowered its head and charged through the shots as they exploded against its armored hide. Roman decided his best course of action was jumping out of the way and hoping not to be trampled, a plan he executed immediately with moderate success as the beast passed him by.

Cyril saw the villain breath a sigh of temporary relief from his position in an alcove nearby, but the mechanical monstrosity dug its heels into the asphalt and skidded to a halt, glaring back in their direction. Its maw split to reveal a cavernous mouth filled with huge, razor-sharp steel teeth. A dull orange glow from the depths of its throat grew brighter as it inhaled, then released another roar, this time accompanied by a jet of white-hot flame.

The monk's fan swung open instantly to shield him from the majority of the searing heat, but Cyril still cringed as he felt blisteringly hot air roll over the edge of the weapon. The metal of his fan heated up quickly in the center, causing him to worry that it wouldn't be able to withstand the assault for much longer. The huge Grimm soon turned its head to strafe the building walls beside Cyril, taking the heat off for the moment.

The jet of fire approached Roman, who was still laying on the sidewalk in shock. He quickly shook himself into action, scrambling to his feet to escape the column of flame. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cyril folding his fan back into staff form, approaching the Grimm from the flank to smash it with a pummeling blow. The beast hardly moved, but halted its flames as it turned back to face its aggressor. The shaven-headed monk was in a low stance, and as soon as it went to shoot more flames at him he ducked forward swiftly. Rolling beneath its head, he jammed the end of his staff into its vulnerable throat, eliciting an annoyed growl, before he dodged again out from under the Grimm. Cyril sprinted toward Roman, grabbing his arm to drag him toward the alley the White Fang had come out of earlier.

"Hey, let go of me!" cried Roman indignantly. Cyril ignored him.

"From what I've seen of that thing in the last two minutes, it looks like a Creep that someone modified heavily with-"

"A what?"

"A Creep."

"…"

"It's a kind of Grimm."

"…Are you sure?"

"It doesn't really matter whether or not I'm sure, but yes, I am. Anyway, someone modified it heavily with all that mechanical stuff, and most of the normal weak spots are covered. I can't pierce its hide with my weapon, and your flares didn't do much either. We're going to have to work together on this one." The monk explained.

Roman sighed. "Why do I get the feeling you're about to start giving me commands?"

Cyril continued with his plan. "I'll distract it since I have a better close-combat setup than you. Get into position and wait for it to breathe fire again. When that happens, shoot as many flares as you can into its mouth. I'm betting it has some kind of flammable fuel in its body to give it that fire ability, so if we can ignite it, that should bring it down." He looked at Roman, then glanced out of the alley at the mechanical Creep searching for them. "Can you do that?"

Roman snorted. "Of course I can do it. The question is whether or not I will. Why should I leave our cozy little hidey hole right here? I'll just wait for it to get bored and leave and then stroll out unharmed."

Cyril pointed to the beast. "We can't stay here because it just found us." Roman peered around the corner to see for himself, then turned back to the monk.

"Fine. Have it your way."

The two unwilling allies tumbled out of the alley as the Creep charged at them with its spiked metal skull, pulverizing the walls of the alley. Cyril sent a miniature whirlwind flying at its head while Roman crept along the side of the building as stealthily as a man with bright orange hair could. The beast brushed off the lightweight attack, focusing on the purple monk that had enraged it. Cyril leapt out of the way as it bit at him, nimbly cartwheeling to the side. He was spinning back to go for another wind attack, but before he could swing his staff, the Grimm's club-tail hit him in the back with a sickening thud.

The shaven-headed monk was thrown to the ground flat on his back, while the mechanical Creep planted its thick legs on either side of him, its bite held back only by the staff he pressed against its neck. His superior leverage kept its gnashing jaws at bay, but the substantial weight of its steel plates was tiring his arms quickly. When familiar orange glow filled the creature's maw, Cyril saw his chance. Slamming his knees into its throat, he pulled his bo staff back and planted it against the Grimm's upper jaw, pushing with all his strength.

Its head wrenched back, lower jaw hanging open as it continued preparing to release its fire-spewing attack again. "Now, Roman!" shouted Cyril as he pushed aura into his arms to hold the position. "Roman!" He looked back at the side of the street where Roman had been, but saw only the back of the man's white coat.

"Remember what I told you about people, kid. Always gonna let you down." he called over his shoulder as he sprinted away.

Cyril gave a frustrated groan. His aura was about to give out, the notorious criminal that was his only chance to defeat the robotic Grimm was running away at top speed, and he was probably going to die. He tried not to let his emotions get the better of him, as difficult as it was to accomplish that feat. The Creep struggling on top of him forced its head down another inch, and the monk decided he had to act.

Another mini-cyclone whipped up at the Grimm end of his staff, and he launched it upward with enough force to push its head back a few inches. Bringing his legs back, he planted his feet on the bottom of the Mecha-Creep's head and his hands on the ground next to his shoulders, and pushed as hard as he could. The heavy Grimm flipped onto its back, struggling to find purchase with its claws, and Cyril sprang up to his feet. He took advantage of the brief pause to aim his staff at the fleeing Roman, launching a precisely aimed whirlwind from the end to chase down the criminal. The orange-haired villain was picked up with an indignant shout and thrown bodily into the side of a building a few feet away, where he fell to the ground unconscious.

The robotic Creep was beginning to get up, so Cyril switched his attention back to it. Swaths of metal mesh fabric unfolded, then pulled taut as the monk spread the blade of his giant fan. Cyril swung the fan, pouring all his remaining aura into the weapon and focusing it around the center of the gust. A condensed ball of storming winds pounded into the Grimm's underbelly, expanding on contact and propelling the beast into a thick stone wall across the street. It dug its claws into the ground, roaring in frustration and opening its mouth to charge another flame breath attack.

Cyril sprinted over to the beast, plunging his staff into the concrete beneath its jaw and pinning it shut, just as the beast let out a fiery roar. It was a sight to see as the huge volume of flame that had built up inside the Grimm found itself with nowhere to go. The center of its skull glowed with a heat visible through its thick skin, and molten metal flowed out of the corners of its eyes and nostrils as the creature roasted itself from the inside out. Cyril stood over the evil thing, victorious in this battle. The criminal laying in the street a few hundred feet away wouldn't be going anywhere either; the Vale City PD or Atlesian military would probably pick him up. He closed his eyes in relief.

But something was off. He opened his eyes again, searching over the smoldering remains of the Grimm for something specific. The monk's scrutinous gaze passed over its tail, its legs, the spiny metal ridges on the back, then settled on the corner of its jaw where a small metal protrusion jutted out from the rest of its mask. He reached down to pull at it, but the thing was stuck tight and he needed both hands to pry it off. It came loose with a sudden snap, throwing Cyril off balance.

The protrusion was a steel plate on the outside, but underneath it concealed a small camera, microchip and LCD screen. Cyril closed his eyes and held the device in his hands. No doubt about it; there were traces of aura on the thing he held. Someone had deliberately engineered a Grimm to be more dangerous and bloodthirsty than usual. He thought back to the octopus he'd seen in his tea cup earlier. The invasion was obviously a disaster, but if someone out there had this kind of equipment and the intent to use it, he wasn't so sure that the breach was the event the omen had foretold.

Eyes still closed, Cyril detected a sudden flash of aura from overhead that disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. He opened his eyes and flicked his gaze skyward to search the pale blue spread for… _There!_ A yellowish blur was soaring through the air – the source of the aura he had sensed. It had to be a person, but who it was he couldn't even guess at.

He looked back at the metal camera-screen in his hand. This mystery wasn't going anywhere fast, so the little mechanism was staying safe until he could put this invasion mess behind him and find out who he had just sensed. He went to put the device in his pocket, but a light winking on the camera stopped him. When he gave it a second glance, the little screen flickered to life in a burst of static, forming a grainy silhouette.

The dark silhouette, outlining a male figure, wasn't moving. Cyril inferred that whoever it was could see him on the receiving end of the camera. He leaned in close, inspecting the camera with his eye. The display winked back off suddenly, and a little puff of smoke came off the microchip part of the device. The purple monk shrugged and tucked the thing into his knapsack, heading off to find the orange person he'd seen fly through the air.

* * *

 **So, now we meet the third person in the story. And, guys, I hate to break this to you, but we haven't even gotten to the main character yet! That's right. I did that to everyone. And myself. I don't know, I just felt like he should be last. I'll give you a hint, though; he shares a name with someone in the Pokemon Adventures manga. Five bucks if you guess who it is.**

 **Anyways, as always follow and review if you like the story, and I'm going to ask a favor of everybody too. If you like how this is going so far, tell your friends. Get us out there. Heck, even if you don't like it you can tell people. I ain't picky about my publicity. Anyway, enjoy Volume Three: Episode 1 tomorrow, everyone. Be seein' ya!**


	4. Chapter 4: Enter Blue

**What up, peeps?**

 **It's me. I wrote another chapter. Which is good news, because according to the little view counter thingy we're over 100 views now, which is great! That's like a milestone or something. Oh, and none of you guessed the name of the protagonist. None of you even tried. (Xera Stark, I'm sorry but you don't count since you already know.) I am deeply, genuinely hurt. And I'm keeping my five bucks!**

 **So here we are with chapter four, and I suppose I'll go ahead and let you read it, but I'm fairly pumped about how it ends. Oh, a reminder: this is a T-rated fic, and you'll find some tastefully applied, but still mildly explicit, language in this chapter, so just a heads-up. Anywho, have fun reading!**

The steady mechanical hum of a Millington Diamond Series V6 racing engine carried clearly through the mid-afternoon air, right outside a club in the outskirts of Vale proper. It was gradually increasing in volume, a deep throaty sound that gave the sort of feeling one might get when on the sidelines of a Formula 1 race, waiting for that exhilarating moment when the cars zoom past right in front of the audience, in a blur so quickly they can't even be seen. And yet, as the automobile that was the source of this noise drew closer to the club, anyone who might have hoped for such a feeling would be growing steadily more confused.

By that time of day, after the first security Breach of the kingdom of Vale in recent history, the invasion of the creatures of Grimm had finally been sealed off. There were still a good number of stray beasts roaming the various districts of town, though, and it was one of these – a Beowolf – that found itself in the path of the said car. It was stalking along in the usual Grimm-ly fashion, raising its head occasionally to sniff the air for signs of prey, when suddenly it caught wind of something.

The wolf Grimm searched left and right, forward and behind for the source of the scent it had caught. Its eyes narrowed, for it knew the smell of a human when it found one, and it definitely smelled one just then. It was still looking when the humming engine from before came close enough to draw its attention. It turned to the side in time for a 1997 four-door Mini Cooper to crash into it rather abruptly at a speed of thirty-five miles per hour.

Muffled electric guitar music emanated from the interior of the blue vehicle, decorated with white racing stripes, when engine and music both were turned off and a surprised " _Whoa!"_ came from inside.

The driver exited the car in alarm. A tall young man, almost towering in fact, pushed the door open with a squeak and got out, rising to his full height. He wore a gray and blue shirt and khaki cargo pants visible underneath a white _haori_ – a long, open coat with short sleeves **(A/N: For reference, Minato Namikaze from _Naruto_ wears one)**. His most distinctive feature, though, was the shock of unruly azure hair that fell down almost over his eyes. The young man strode to the front of the vehicle to give it a thorough inspection, then cast a sidelong glance at the Beowolf he had plowed through.

The creature of Grimm was back on its feet, dazed but aggressive nonetheless. It had been stabbed, shot, beaten, clawed, bitten, and stomped on, but never before had it been rammed with an economy-size sedan. The confused beast shook itself, then charged at the young man with a guttural growl.

The blue-haired teenager turned to block the first swipe of the Beowolf's claws with his forearm. It tried to strike at his chest, inside his guard, but he grabbed the clawed limb with his free hand, restraining the attack and giving the claw a firm shake. The Beowolf's red eyes glared at him with suspicious confusion.

"Hi." The teen said with a handshake and a smile. "Blue Zorimatsu. Nice to meet you."

The Beowolf was lifted off its feet by a sudden pull as Blue grabbed its arm with both hands. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he swung it in a wide circle, building up rotational force. The wolf-like Grimm let out a whine as the whole world except for the blue-haired teen rotated around it. Then Blue let go, and allowed the Beowolf's inertia to carry it a good thirty feet through the air, sailing directly into one of several concrete piles that held up an overhead bridge.

After watching the corpse of the Grimm dissolve into shadowy vapors, Blue dusted off his hands and turned back to the Mini, undamaged in its encounter with the Beowolf's face. The car might've been fine, but the gas tank was also empty, so a quick look around led him here – the closest place to ask directions.

Blue walked to the back of the Mini and popped the trunk open. From the space he took an olive drab messenger bag and slipped it over his shoulder. Next came a heavy pistol; he pulled the clip and checked the ammunition load before reinserting it and slipping the firearm into his bag. Some spare clips, a medkit, food rations - you never knew what might happen. He set them aside, but paused at the last item.

An oblong cloth-wrapped bundle, tied up with tattered, fading, bronze-colored thread, laid in the bottom of the trunk. Blue reached in and picked up the bundled object, hefting the weight in his hand. He pulled on the tassels at the end of the threads that tied it together and let the folds of fabric fall to the sides. In his hands the blue-haired teen held a long, curved sword enclosed in a slim sheath. The outer layers of the sheath were black, with a blue cloth grip extending several inches from the open end. Three buttons - red, light blue and gold - adorned the edge of the sheath, hinting at an additional function.

He grasped the sheath near the opening with one hand and the hilt of the sword with the other, feeling the smooth texture of the handle. Then in a single swift movement, he whipped the sword out of the sheath with barely a whisper, spinning it once and ending the stroke with the blade held out in front of him. Blue turned the sword sideways to examine it, angling the steel so it caught the light in a luminous ribbon across the polished metal. The blade was in the style of an eastern nodachi, about five feet long plus an eighteen inch hilt and gently curving throughout its length. The grip was wrapped in ray skin and deep blue cotton, and the guard depicted a dragon wreathed in clouds entwining the blade. Unlike its high-tech scabbard, the sword was old, older in fact than most people. It had been ancient back before the first battles of the Great War were even fought; an heirloom passed down for generations upon generations and cared for so reverently that it was no less sharp now than the day it was forged.

Sheath and sword were leaned on his shoulder casually. Blue closed the trunk and turned toward the building he'd pulled up alongside. Its location in the industrial district and the fact that it had some fancy décor, but was practically deserted made the place appear to be a nightclub. _Not exactly a 7/11, but someone in there ought to be able to point me in the right direction._ He grabbed his nodachi and went inside.

The entrance doors were obnoxiously large considering the function of the building. Blue pushed one of them open hesitantly, peering into the club's interior. The prominent theme was glass; transparent panes covered the walls and floors, and holographic trees rotated on free-standing columns. Stage lights also hung from the ceiling, but the more outstanding effects of the club like strobes and pulsing dance music were absent during the middle of the day. Several employees dressed in identical suits and red sunglasses were loitering around, since they didn't seem to have much work to do at the moment. As Blue crossed the open dance floor area, he noticed how many of them stared at him openly, including one up in the DJ's balcony next to a hollow bear head. Wow. Awkward. He straightened up and walked faster.

Upon reaching what seemed to be a bar, the blue-themed swordsman took a seat at one of the bar stools. A tall man in a red vest and white shirt who'd been leaning against the wall took a look at him and sniffed. Blue waited patiently at the counter, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for something to happen. Once it became clear that he wasn't going to just leave, the tall man sighed and made his way over to him.

"Isn't it a little early in the day to be visiting a nightclub, kid?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Well, I don't know. That depends." Blue scratched his head. "Do you have root beer?"

"No," said the bartender. "We serve real drinks here, and I doubt you're even old enough for those."

"So you don't have root beer."

"Yes."

"Yes, you do have it, or yes, I'm right that you don't?"

"We don't have root beer, dumbass."

"Well, do you have regular beer?"

"Of course we have regular beer."

"How about seasonal beer?

"We have pumpkin ale, but somehow I doubt you'll order that." The man was getting annoyed.

"So you have normal beer."

"Yes."

"And you have pumpkin beer."

" _Yes_." A vein was bulging visibly on his forehead.

"But not root beer."

"Oh my god, we _don't have root beer,_ you moron!"

Blue sat for a moment, rather taken aback by the man's outburst.

"…"

"Do you have birch beer-"

" _SHUT UP!_ " The man yelled. His face was so red it almost matched the deep crimson of his vest.

"Your head looks like it's about to explode," Blue pointed out.

" _You_ look like you're about to explode!" The furious man slammed his fists into the countertop, then reached beneath it for something nestled between rows of clinking glasses.

"Out of the of the two of us, why do you think I'd be the one who's more likely to explode? If you don't mind my asking." Blue piqued the question as several of the club's staff began to slowly back away with expressions of alarm. From under the counter, the man withdrew a large red tube and mounted it on his shoulder with a grimace as he pointed the rocket launcher straight at his irritating customer.

"Oh. Makes more sense now." Blue remarked as he grabbed his sword and planted his feet on the counter, pushing off and flying into the air away from the armed bartender.

"The name's Junior, punk, and you shouldn't mess with me!" he roared, and pulled the trigger.

From the barrel of the launcher sprang half a dozen miniature rockets, all of which proceeded to spiral erratically toward the airborne Blue. _Dammit! How do I always get into these situations!?_ The swordsman panicked internally as the rockets homed in on their target, leaving white smoke trails in their wake. He had to act.

Blue gripped his sword and sheath, fingers positioned directly over the three colored buttons on the sheath's grip. The rockets were inches away when he pressed down on the second button, light blue, and a snowflake lit up on its surface. An azure glow spread down a line at the sheath's center, and Blue drew his sword.

It wasn't flashy, really. Just a sword strike. Three sky-blue crescents lit up the club, all within an instant of each other, and then the curved sword was sheathed again. He landed in a crouch on the glass floor, followed by a series of thumps as six chunks of frozen ordnance hit the ground along with him.

He stood to face Junior again. The club owner scowled, swinging the rocket launcher by its end. Its cylindrical sections telescoped into each other, condensing into a thick metal bat. He leapt at Blue, shifting his whole body into a heavy swing. _Crap!_

The swordsman jumped, barely in time to avoid a crushing blow, and managed a hasty block with his sheath at the next hit. His aura took some bruises for both attacks, but the next swing left Junior open and Blue took his chance. Jumping forward, he shouldered into the other man to throw his swing off. Junior tried to correct, but Blue spun around and planted his free hand on the chest of the sharply-dressed man.

"You know, I really am sorry about this." he expressed apologetically. Junior felt a jolt of searing pain in his chest, moving through his torso and through his legs into the ground. His muscles contracted in response to the electrical shock, spasming wildly, and the next thing he knew he'd been thrown backward into the counter, groaning in pain.

Junior pushed himself up, grabbing his weapon in rocket launcher form and brought it to bear on Blue. The swordsman stepped back, but he knew this wasn't right. Blue dropped his nodachi, waving his hands as he walked toward Junior. "Whoa, whoa, no need to blow up your nice tidy club. Or me. Listen, can we just talk about this?"

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not worth it, but I'm not sure I actually believe that." Junior's breaths were heavy, winded as he was, and he looked like he might still shoot Blue even though he was only a few feet away.

"Look, I seriously feel bad for coming in and getting in a fight. All I really need to know is where there's a gas station around here." Blue rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Can I just leave and that'll be that?"

Junior hesitated, considering the teen's offer. On one hand, this kid really, _really_ deserved a missile to the face. On the other, he definitely didn't want a repeat of what had happened with the blonde. He was still paying out workers' compensation for the hurt she'd laid on his staff, and that was four months ago.

Blue had been holding his breath, but he exhaled in a sigh of relief when he saw his opponent lower the rocket launcher. _Not going to get hit with explosives… That's good._ "So… yeah. Just need to get gas."

Junior massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "There aren't any gas stations in Vale. Cars run on Dust fuel, if you hadn't noticed in years of living in the present. Please leave."

Blue opened his mouth to thank the man, but Junior held up his hand. "Just… just go." He closed his mouth again and jogged over to the counter to grab his bag before turning toward the door.

The club's suited employees stared with dropped jaws from their hiding places. Not many people who walked in and angered Junior walked out again afterward. Usually they crawled. Or were dragged. The tall blue-haired swordsman had unknowingly become one of a select group of elite persons who had defied their boss and lived to tell the tale.

Blue had his hand on the door when a strange noise made him pause. It was a weird rumbling, like stuff was hitting the roof. He looked up to the ceiling, searching for any such phenomena, but found only some dust motes floating lazily in the air, illuminated by the stage lights. And then the ceiling caved in.

He didn't even have time to say or think anything about it. The ceiling was sagging right over him, but all he got out was "Ack!" before the entire top half of the club seemed to fall on him. Lots of concrete and rubble, dust and rocks, and a row of the stage lights poured out of the hole, the flow staunching only after several seconds of rumbling and shaking had taken place.

Blue groaned and shifted beneath the pile of disheveled rubble. Aura was nice. It healed wounds. It blunted attacks. It kept pointy things from killing him. But it didn't stop falling roofs from hurting like hell. He clutched the knot quickly growing on the back of his head, pushing some thick stone slabs aside and sitting up.

Something else stirred and groaned beneath the dust and debris, and Blue froze. Was there someone…? He scrambled up and shoveled chunks of broken building off whatever it was until the person's body was mostly uncovered.

Layered in a coating of dirt and grime was a girl, about his age, crumpled in a heap and completely unconscious. She was dressed mostly in orange, with red hair and a heavy machine gun strapped around her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and she didn't seem to have any serious external injuries.

Blue sat on his knees next to her, bent over and ready to help, yet not quite sure what to do. Most of the suits around him were just gawking unhelpfully. _I really hope this doesn't come down to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation._ He was spared that indignity, though, as the girl began coughing gently, eyelids fluttering as her brain reorganized all its discombobulated signals.

"Hey." Blue reached over to place his hand on her arm as the mystery girl pushed herself up. She stopped, turning her head pointedly to look at his hand. Blue removed it.

"Do you know where you are?" he probed. Seemed like a safe question.

The girl was brushing the dust off herself, and she answered offhand. "Well, I certainly hope I'm still in Vale. Otherwise I will have been thrown quite farther than I'd like to think about." She reached down to dust off her skirt, but hissed in pain when her aching muscles tried to move too far.

"Well then, no problems there. You're in a club in the industrial district." Blue scratched his head. "So, um… I guess I'll start with 'who are you', and then if that works out we can try 'how did you get here?'"

The mystery girl gave him a funny look, but responded nonetheless. "Natalie Dryas, Huntress-in-training. I got a bunch of explosive stuff blown up on me and I guess it threw me across town." She patted the sides of her legs to search for something, then reached into a side pocket on her skirt to remove a white scroll. When her finger touched the button on its center, it expanded to full length – about seven inches – and brought up a home screen filled with apps.

Natalie looked at it in surprise. "I honestly wasn't expecting this thing to still work." She pulled up the combat screen and checked her aura level, wincing when she saw that it had dwindled down to the 10% range. "I must've really taken a hit." A pause. " Well, actually, I guess I did fall like five hundred feet after bombs exploded on me."

"Wow. Rough day." Blue remarked. Natalie nodded tiredly in agreement.

She was seated in a chair Blue had found, sipping from a glass of ice water. Blue was leaning on his elbows over the tabletop, eyelids at half-mast in lethargic boredom. Some club staff had cleaned up the broken ceiling, and they were working on patching the hole while Junior oversaw the process. He was pretty much about to fall asleep when the purple guy walked in.

Rapid footsteps outside the door drew Blue's gaze to the entrance, which was thrown open by an oddly dressed young man. He had on a purple shirt, tan pants and this weird scarf thing that was honestly just confusing. He was panting like he'd run the whole way there.

"Um… hello-" Blue started, but the newest arrival ignored him, instead holding his eyes closed for a minute then opening them to look at Natalie.

"Weird," he spoke. "You were in the air a few minutes ago. Can you fly?"

Natalie was still processing the appearance of the young man when she realized he was addressing her. "Um, no?" she responded. "I was... thrown. Who are you, exactly?" Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "And how do you know it was me? Heck, how did you even know anybody was up in the air?" She glared at him suspiciously. "You're not a bird watcher, are you? Just searching the skies for random avian life and happened to see me?"

The purple-clad figure bowed with a flourish. "I'm Cyril Bingani. Nice to meet you. No, I'm not a bird watcher, for whatever reason that would be important."

Natalie sniffed. "Good. I hate bird watchers."

"As for how I noticed you, my eyes were closed and I was focused. I sensed your aura. Burnt orange, unless I'm mistaken. That's also how I can tell that the person I detected earlier is also you."

"Wait, so you can just sense auras?" Blue interrupted. "That's kind of an arbitrary talent to have."

"It's my Semblance. When I focus I can sense auras, among other things. It happens to work a lot better with my eyes closed." Cyril was waving his hands gently as he talked, which Blue actually found helpful in understanding his explanation. "So that's how I got here, to…" He looked around. "Um, a night club."

"Wow, funny story about that. So I was driving along and I ran out of gas, so I had to stop in here-" Blue started but was cut off.

"Yeah, yeah. We all care _so_ much about how everybody got here. Whoop-de-doo. Does anyone actually have an important reason for being in this random club in the middle of the day?" Natalie demanded.

 _That's a good question._ Blue considered her inquiry, delving into his mind for answers, but came up empty-handed. He looked over at Cyril, but the monk appeared to be in the same boat with him.

"No?" Natalie turned back and forth between them. "Nobody? Going once, going twice…?" Blue and Cyril shook their heads. "Then I'm leaving. You can come along or you can't, whatever you want."

"Yeah!" shouted Junior from across the club. "If you have no reason to be here, I'm putting up a no-loitering sign!"

"Shut up!" Natalie hollered. "I wasn't talking to you!"

The three warriors – blue, orange and purple – made for an odd sight as they walked down the street away from Junior's club. Natalie walked with her hands behind her head and her feet kicking way out in front of her, in a relaxed I-don't-care kind of way. Cyril and Blue took more normal steps, but the monk had to quicken his pace to keep up with the longer strides of the other two.

Blue stretched his arms above his head. "Man, this is just a weird day. I mean, Grimm invasion, fighting a bartender, roofs caving in on me…"

"Fighting giant metal Death Stalkers and winning," Natalie chimed in.

The tall youth shot a glance at his companion in surprise. "You fought a giant metal Grimm? What, did someone decide to turn humanity's deadliest enemy into a science project?"

"Mm-hm. Forty feet tall, or thereabouts. Had armor plating and stuff. It was really tough, but I totally wrecked a warehouse on top of it." A toothy grin spread over Natalie's face at the thought. "That part was fun."

"But not the blowing up part." Blue added.

" _Definitely_ not the blowing up part. But hey, maybe it was a new species or something!" Natalie speculated with excitement. "The very first giant mechanical Grimm in the world, and I got to kill it! Maybe they'll even let me name it. Now what would be good to call such a thing…?"

"Actually, I encountered a similar creature." Cyril stated. Natalie turned to look at him in horrified anguish, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks as her dreams of going down in the history books melted away before her eyes.

"Really?" Blue asked as he and Cyril walked around Natalie, oblivious to her tragic loss. "I wonder if the two were related."

"Well, the Grimm I fought was a mechanical Creep, so they were different base species."

"What kind of stuff did it have? Like, how was it modified?"

"Hmm… there was the armored skull and claws, and I distinctly recall it breathing fire at me. And there was something else strange about it, too. Obviously someone made it artificially, but I found an odd device attached with a camera, like someone was watching it." The monk stepped over Natalie, who was laying on the ground and gasping for breath as she clutched at an imaginary dagger in her heart.

"So do you think someone really is manufacturing them? Like a coordinated strike or something?"

"That thought did cross my mind. It's just despicable to think about anyone who'd want to engineer an invasion on one of Remnant's biggest population centers. And they're practically a force of nature, too; however they managed to do it, it wasn't easy."

"That's the biggest question, though. Who? Not everyone can just subdue a Grimm and do surgery on it." The swordsman's brow furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Natalie put her hand to her forehead and swooned behind them.

Cyril shook his head. "For one thing, we have no leads. For another, I doubt we'll be able to track any down. I'm not sure about you, but I'm new here. I don't even have an apartment or anything yet, so this whole thing is going to go nowhere fast."

Natalie popped up next to them, having abandoned her dramatic production after failing to elicit any reaction. "Yep, same. If you do manage to get an apartment, though, you should totally let me stay there."

"Why?"

"What? You can't find room in your heart to provide housing and a warm meal to a girl who just lived through a citywide invasion and was thrown about a mile through the air by _bombs_?" Natalie put on a pouty face. "You're mean!"

Blue chuckled in amusement at Natalie's haggling, stretching his arms behind him. The mid-afternoon sun was blocked by some of the taller buildings near the street as they walked down the sidewalk. In the aftermath of the breach, which appeared to have been taken care of, some level of normality was beginning to resumes in Vale. He could hear a conglomerate of noises that didn't seem to include screaming, gunshots, or explosions. So that was good.

The streets even looked pretty clear. People were starting to come back out from their homes to the street again. Blue peered down the street to get a better look at some of them. _Boy, people sure are excited about the thing being over._ There was a whole big crowd of them walking down the street toward them.

 _That's… actually a lot of people to find hanging around in the industrial district. They're, like, congregating. Weirdly. Is there a parade or something?_

"Uh. Guys." Blue muttered sideways to his companions, not taking his eyes off the group of people.

"Guy and girl." Natalie corrected him. Cyril rolled his eyes, evidently somewhat annoyed that she hadn't given up mooching off his future residence.

"Yeah. That. Whatever. Do those look like people to you?" The tall swordsman pointed to the distance. "They seem to be wearing an awful lot of dark clothing."

"Let me check." Cyril offered, stopping to close his eyes. Natalie and Blue halted as well, waiting patiently for his verdict. The monk stood with his eyes closed and arms crossed, concentrating on the mass of people(?) down the street for a good twenty seconds. Then he opened them back up.

"Nope."

"So, not people." Blue asked, his hopes fading rapidly.

"Well, there's one person. Aura was faint, but there's definitely someone over the rooftops heading this way." Cyril explained.

"Wait, so all those people aren't people? Was there a pet store jailbreak or something?" Natalie asked.

Cyril shrugged. "Well, we can ask whoever it is that's on the roofs. They're coming this way."

"He or she," Blue corrected Cyril's grammar automatically.

"He or she is binary and discriminating." Natalie argued. "We don't know what that person is like, or if that's what their pronouns are."

"We'll ask them that too." Cyril pointed to a dark figure on the edge of a rooftop high over their heads. As they watched, the person leapt off the corner of the building, grabbing onto a drainpipe that ran down the wall and sliding down nimbly.

"Hey!" Blue yelled. "What's the deal?"

Natalie shouted at them before they could even see what the new arrival looked like. "WHAT'RE YOUR PRONOUNS!?" The person walked over, not giving Natalie a strange look, which Blue found in itself to be strange.

"Greetings." Whoever it was seemed to prefer dressing like a government agent. "I am a female, since you asked. My name is Catherine O'Neill, but I generally prefer to be called Agent 1."

Cyril opened his mouth, presumably to respond politely, but Blue completely cut him off. "Yeah. Weird nickname. Whatever. Is that giant mass of people a good thing or a bad one?"

Catherine turned to face him. "Those are Grimm. If you are by chance proficient in combat, I would appreciate your help in deterring them."

The four of them turned to face the now rapidly approaching herd of Grimm. "They must have been drawn by your aura." Cyril speculated.

Natalie reached for her gun. "And now there's four of us. Together. And they're coming this way."

Blue gulped. _Oh, crap._

 **What? You thought there was going to be one little introductory chapter for each main character? Like the trailers?**

 **WRONG!**

 **Technically, even though they're labeled chapters 1-4, you've actually read what I consider to be chapters 1-3 and then 3 ½. So there's definitely gonna be an epic climax next chapter. It looks like I do actually tend to do new chapter posts on every other weekend or thereabouts, so check then if you're following faithfully. Or you could follow the fic. That would be way easier because the site would just tell you. It'd be cool if you favorited and reviewed it, too. Alright, be seein' ya!**


	5. Chapter 5: Pleasant Intros, Part 1

**Hey, everyone! I'm alive.**

 **Let me just say that I am so, so sorry for the wait. I have so many (totally legitimate) excuses, but I wanna get to the story before the people who read Chapter 4 last time end up dying of old age.**

 **Rrright. Where were we? Well-timed cliffhanger? Epic climax chapter? Hordes of bloodthirsty Grimm? Ah, yes, that's it. So, without further ado (adon't?), may I present Chapter 5.**

"Alright, can we _please_ finish this up sometime soon?" Blue moaned.

He grimaced at the sight of the latest in a long line of Ursa. He dodged under a swipe from one of its massive paws, rolling to his feet with sword in hand. It swung the paw back at him; he jumped, executing a forceful spinning kick to its chin and knocking the beast's head back.

The Grimm roared, enraged by his offense. He pressed the red button on his sheath, and a shade of crimson spread down the length of the weapon. With a roar, Blue ripped his nodachi from its sheath, along with a torrent of white-hot Dust-fueled flames. The razor steel cleaved straight through the flesh and bone of its foreleg, but came to a jarring halt against the thicker armor of its mask. The searing heat of Blue's attack left charred black burns on its face.

Blue sheathed his sword for another quick-draw iaido attack, red button still held down. The crippled Ursa in front of him stumbled forward with a halfhearted growl, blood pooling on the concrete beneath the stump of its front leg. It shuddered as Blue's heated sword passed through its midsection, then slumped to the ground inanimately.

Around him, he saw his allies fighting in similar conditions. Natalie was hammering her LMG rounds into pretty much any Grimm she happened to look at, simultaneously using her whip to tangle up the limbs of the more agile ones so she could finish them. Catherine was the most mobile of the group, the darkly blurred fighter weaving and dodging constantly in her attack so that hardly any of the evil monster horde was able to keep up with her.

A shadow fell over Blue's shoulder, and he whirled to find a frantically rotating Boarbatusk descending on him for the killing strike. The swordsman maneuvered his steel sheath to block, but before the two objects made contact the Grimm was accelerated sideways by a concentrated burst of wind.

He glanced to see Cyril give him a little salute before spinning his staff into the mask of a Beowolf behind him, resuming combat. Blue followed likewise, sprinting toward a duo of smaller Beowolves to cut them down with his swift strikes.

Natalie wrapped her chain whip around the neck of a Beowolf and pulled it off its feet. "Dammit, Blue, how the hell did you think these were _people_ when you saw them?"

"They looked like a crowd of people to me! Don't judge!" Blue retorted.

"Then your eyesight is terrible!" The Beowolf from before took a burst of .30 cal ammunition to the face, barely beginning to dissolve before a dead Creep collapsed over it, taken down by the dual flashing knives of Catherine.

"Don't blame me, at least. Isn't she the one who led them here?" Blue sliced into the side of a passing Grimm, then pointed at Catherine with his sword. "How come she's not being annoyed by you?" Another Grimm barreled toward Blue in a full-body tackle, a Beowolf with claws outstretched in a clutching grasp. He switched from the red button on his weapon to the blue, executing two rapid iaido slashes.

The Beowolf passed by him, slowing its pace as the swordsman rested his nodachi on his shoulder and watched two frozen chunks of arm fall to the ground heavily. _Nice knowing you,_ thought Blue as he beheaded it with a forceful two-handed swipe, causing the corpse to dissolve into hazy black smoke.

"Catherine has been polite and tremendously helpful since the moment she got here. You, on the other hand, are a complete nuisance and deserve to be pestered." Natalie called to Blue as she blasted more Grimm.

"Alright, fine, fine," Blue exasperated. "I'm so terribly sorry I thought they were humans before. _Now_ can we finish up?"

"Seems like a reasonable request." Cyril commented, swinging his staff down and back to throw open the weapon's fan mode. "Let's get to it for real."

Twenty minutes later, the exhausted quartet of warriors was still locked in combat with the final few Grimm of the day. As Natalie finished off a Beowolf with a slivery slash of her razor-sharp whip, Catherine simultaneously deposited a fifty-gram chunk of lead flechette into the skull of a Boarbatusk behind her. Cyril had already defeated his target, a Creep, so the last of their group that remained was a certain lanky swordsman.

The swordsman in question was currently on one knee, sword and sheath like lead weights in his hands and resting on the ground. His shoulders rose and fell in sequence as he breathed in gasps of oxygen from the sweat-laden atmosphere around him. _I feel tired_ , he thought, just to provide the requisite understatement of the decade. Even his aura, normally an impregnable bulwark of strength, had waned somewhat quickly beneath the exhaustive battle.

And yet, here he was, with one foe left.

"I don't wanna have to fight that one," Blue complained loudly as he stared up into twin pairs of slitted pupils, each seeming to sink menacingly into the red sclerae of two snake heads suspended before him by a lengthy serpentine form. One a cold, deep black, the other tinted gleaming white. As Grimm went, Blue supposed the King Taijitu wasn't such an ugly one to behold here and there.

And then it just slammed its face into him. Not a hiss, nothing in warning. Just bludgeoning him with its big stupid head the size and shape of an economy-class sedan. The dark asphalt of the street below him sprouted cracks in a spiderweb shape from the impact of the dark head of the Taijitu.

The snake Grimm's lighter head hissed in reaction to its counterpart's offense, seemingly satisfied by the attack on a human. The black snake head shuddered, though, and slowly lifted away from the roughshod earth not of its own accord.

"Get… off… _ME!_ " Blue groaned from beneath the snake head. He held up the monster's face with his back, hands and knees planted firmly into the ground. The swordsman struggled heavily to stand one foot up and moved his hands to the underside of the struggling King Taijitu's head.

The towering serpentine Grimm was rocked back as Blue forced himself upward with a mighty push and a tremendous roar. It landed in a tangled pile amongst the folds of its own body. Blue staggered to his feet, scrabbling in the debris to find the glinting silver hilt of his sword and gripping it firmly when he felt the cold steel against his palm.

The King Taijitu was rearranging itself as he moved his fingers over the rainbow-tinted controls of the weaponized Dust scabbard on his sword. "Did you know… that I really hate creepy-crawlies?" the lanky swordsman asked his adversary. The serpent Grimm replied to him with a hiss. "Yeah. I thought so." Blue flexed his fingers over the buttons, gripping both sword and sheath firmly in a drawing stance.

The snake struck as Blue spun backward on his heel. Dust and rocks kicked up from the hole made by the large Grimm's strike, and Blue clamped down his fingers on all three of the buttons at once. Glowing rainbows of color rippled down the length of the steel scabbard, increasing in frequency until they were a shimmer of indistinguishable white light. The Taijitu's second head struck, crisscrossing over the other one. It sideswiped Blue on his return spin in the opposite direction, but the necks behind both heads were stretched out in front of him now.

The Dust inside Blue's scabbard vaporized, shattering the metal that made up the device and leaving the swordsman with a nodachi that glowed with silver Dust-fueled energy. Blue slid his now-free hand onto the hilt of the curved sword, raising the blade above his head in a two-handed grip. Then it descended.

There was a bright flash of striated white light that overflowed from the edges of rooftops, spilling out into the afternoon sky. Accompanying the sight came a high-pitched keening noise that faded along with the light, both phenomena gradually giving way to the native sky and quiet ambient hum that normally filled Vale's streets.

Blue's nodachi was buried halfway into the concrete at the base of a long, jagged gash marking its path through the concrete. The linear scar marring the surface of the road went from the middle of the street where he stood all the way to the sidewalk, about a foot deep at its thickest point. It crept up the walls of the buildings at the side, widening as it worked its way up thirty feet to end at the third story.

The blue-haired swordsman was still gripping the hilt of his sword. His enemy, the King Taijitu, had been beheaded on both ends, leaving only scorched stumps where its twin faces used to be. Its body was still moving as residual nervous signals from its now-disconnected brains worked their way through its muscles and gradually wore themselves out.

Natalie, Cyril and Catherine stood a ways down the street, watching the spectacle from afar. Natalie stood with her hand on her hip before speaking up. "Overdramatic much?" she asked rhetorically.

Blue pulled his sword away from the scorched earth. He reached for a sheath at his side automatically, but his hand grasped at nothing and he recalled that it was gone, disintegrated after his last attack.

The three comrades joined him in the center of the ruined street as the husk of the King Taijitu faded away into shadowy, smoke-like vapors. "So," asked Cyril, "What now?"

"I am tired," announced Blue. Catherine started to speak, but Blue held up a hand and she thoughtfully refrained from commenting. "I am also hungry," he continued, "and I would love to find somewhere that offers both sitting down and eating food."

The stand was called A Simple Wok. It was by the curb of some side street they found while wandering. It had a bamboo framework and paper walls, and a sloped roof with red clay tiles. The owner was a short old man with spiky gray hair, thinning in the middle, and he gave an indifferent "harrumph" when the ragtag group sat down at his noodle house's four stools.

"I'd like to order the house ramen, please." Blue requested promptly. He moved to lean his nodachi against the wall of the stand, but the owner have him a threatening look and he realized how likely it was to damage the thin paper barrier. Instead, he placed it beneath his bench gingerly.

The old man took Cyril and Natalie's orders, Catherine having politely declined with fewer words than even seemed possible, and he set about preparing utensils and dishes for their meals.

"So, am I as cool as you guys now because I killed a big bad Grimm?" The tall swordsman petitioned his three companions eagerly.

Cyril scratched his head, leaning back on his seat. "Well, I don't know. I mean, we all fought Grimm that were enhanced technologically somehow. The one you beat was just a normal King Taijitu. It wasn't really special or anything." He explained.

Blue dejectedly slumped in his seat, crestfallen, as Cyril continued. "Honestly, I kind of have to hope that you don't get to fight one of those…" He searched for the right word for a few moments.

"Mecha-Grimm?" Natalie suggested.

"…Mecha Grimm." Cyril took the proffered term hesitantly. "If you all the sudden got to fight one, Blue, it'd mean that the city that we just now helped to save would be back in danger. We'd start all over again with the running and the fighting and the trying not to die, and it would really just be a lot of unpleasant business."

"Yeah, I guess I can see where you're coming from when you put it like that." Blue sighed. "I just thought coming here would be more spectacular than it has so far."

Natalie have him a weird look. "Exactly how exciting were you expecting it to be?" She asked. "You had a complete stranger fall through a roof onto you, met a _monk_ -" The girl gave Cyril a strange glance, as though she was uncertain as to his honesty in this regard. "And then you fought an entire horde of Grimm."

"And I guess there was also the enraged bar owner."

"And the enraged- wait, what? What do you- You know, never mind, actually. I don't think I wanna ask." Natalie shook her head at Blue in disappointment.

The shop owner looked like he'd finished making their orders. Three porcelain bowls hit the counter in front of the group: a sizable bowl of noodles and broth for Blue, a soup ordered by Cyril and Natalie's spicy chicken. The tall swordsman dug into his carb-filled meal with enthusiasm as his friends took a more leisurely time eating.

Peaceful silence was maintained for about three minutes. "So," Blue mumbled past a mouthful of noodles, "What's the next step? Like, what happens now that we're all done fighting stuff? This is the kind of thing I wonder about in TV shows." He paused and swallowed a bite of ramen. "There'll be some cool scene with plot development and some dynamic events, then just a cut right to the next scene. How did they get to that point? Did they drive? Walk? Maybe take the bus? Was it rainy out? Did they get wet? How long has it been? No one asks these questions."

"No one asks those questions for a very good reason." Natalie stated as she grappled with her chopsticks to extricate a particularly resilient piece of chicken from her plate. The girl put up a valiant struggle, but ultimately the breaded poultry was just too well-affixed to the dish. She huffed in frustration and abandoned her chopsticks, prying the piece of chicken off with her fingers and chomping down on it angrily. "The reason is that no one cares. Would you wanna watch some people drive forty minutes from one place to another? All that's boring stuff. People watch TV to feel entertained, not to fall asleep."

"You're no fun." Blue crossed his arms and huffed.

"I guess I'm going to Beacon to talk with the head honchos and see what they think about me enrolling. I don't have enough lien on me to pay for a hotel, anyway." Cyril spoke up, ignoring the digression. "What about you?" Blue scratched his head at the query.

"Same, I guess. I was thinking that too, how maybe they'd let us in. Sure, it's halfway through the year already, but who knows? Maybe they'll be feeling amicable." He sighed.

"Plus, I'm adorable so they probably won't be able to say no. Well, to me, anyway." Natalie clasped her hands under her chin, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes dramatically. Blue let out a derisive snort at her antics and rolled his eyes. The four of them continued eating for a while longer, happy simply to be resting and not fighting for their lives.

 _It's weird. I didn't notice it getting dark, but now the skies are all gray and gloomy. Clouds and winds, and the sun all covered up by sheets of mist and damp. I kinda wish I had more soup. The warmth might be nice. I hate how it gets dark and cold so early. O abridg'd days of winter, thou art cruel and heartless._

 _Wow, that was cool. If I ever form a band, it's going to be called Abrig'd Days of Winter._

Blue let his mind wander in the aftermath of their delicious rest stop. The four not-quite-friends were meandering down a side street back toward the general direction of the town square, as directed by Cyril. The skies were indeed much darker than was warranted by the time of day, but Blue thought little of it in the moment. He tuned back in to the sparse conversation occurring between Natalie and Cyril just in time to hear the former accuse the latter of horse murder.

"...Yeah. That was weird." He muttered. Natalie's look shot daggers at him, but he ignored the sharp glance and was about to drift back into thought when he heard a weird sound. It was odd and extremely out of place; one of those weird phantom ringing noises that sometimes came from electronics, but other times were just scattered figments of the imagination. This one was odd enough to take notice of, though, and Blue interrupted the conversation around him in full this time.

"Hey, guys, listen, listen for a sec. I thought I heard something." Cyril and Natalie toned down their bickering to a gradual silence, and Catherine continued being silent.

The four of them listened carefully, hearing nothing but the sound of the wind picking up as it blew through the streets and past buildings beneath the now-cloudy sky. Then the air split, sonic waves vibrating every molecule of their beings with a sound like two keening shards of glass being raked down the world's largest chalkboard. It was a demonic and infernal noise, a screech loud enough to make all four warriors cringe in pain and cover their ears.

"What the hell was…" Natalie began. A shadow eclipsed the small amount of light that managed to trickle down from the sky, swooping over them with the faintest rustle of wings, in sharp contrast to the noise that had just shaken the area. The absence of warm sunlight let a blustery chill run over her arms, and she shivered. "…That?" The airborne feature was gone as soon as it appeared.

Blue had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't the ramen disagreeing with him. "Anybody see anything?" He gripped the hilt of his sword in unexpected anxiety.

Cyril felt the breeze ruffle his scarf, and the monk clutched it against his shoulder securely while he scanned the building tops that surrounded their street. Finding nothing visible amongst the wispy, grayish clouds, he closed his eyes and searched with his Semblance for any traces of aura. _Nothing._ He felt only the vaguest indications of aura from the center of town – most likely the regular townspeople of Vale, none of whom lived out here in the industrial district. "I can't sense anything," he informed his comrades.

"Agreed. The skies appear to be vacant." Catherine affirmed.

They stood in an loose, outward-facing ring, still tense for some reason. The darkened, clouded skies stayed darkened and clouded, occasionally whisking down a gust of wind, but everything seemed calm. Blue was still gripping his sword in an alert, slight crouching position, but after nothing happened for several moments he started to feel stupid.

He stood up, lowering his nodachi. "Okay, is there or is there not something to worry about? Because this is getting tiresome. I'm starting to feel like an idiot."

And then he saw it.

The first part that came into view was the head, emerging slowly over the precipice of a building directly in front of him. It was, like all Grimm, masked in white bone and decorated with flowing crimson lines like smears of blood from some tribal ritual, contrasting starkly with the gray skies around it. At one point it might have been a Nevermore, but in Blue's mind the traditional classification system for Grimm didn't really apply here. _It's freaking enormous,_ he thought inwardly.

Sure enough, the rest of the winged Grimm's massive form emerged slowly from beyond the horizon. Given its apparent size at this distance, its dark wingspan had to be the size of a city block, maybe two. It flapped them once, and the clouds around it stirred in mini-cyclones from the gust. The jagged plates of bleached bone that adorned most Grimm were also present on its feathered form in great numbers, almost like the thing was wearing a suit of armor.

The rest of Blue's ragtag quasi-Hunter group stared along with him, mouths agape at the spectacle. No one spoke for a few moments, even as it glided closer to them at a high speed.

Natalie spat out a very unladylike word. "Okay, let's just go forward with the assumption that it's going to attack us and we're going to have to fight it, because why _wouldn't_ the day get worse?" She sighed, her shoulders slumped. "Let's get moving. Anyone got a plan?"

Cyril responded, eyes still locked on the Nevermore. "Let's… let's just see what it does. Maybe it won't notice us. We probably look pretty small from up there." As he spoke, the avian Grimm passed over them, repeating the earlier spectacle of blocking out the sun. Blue shivered. Even though it was so high up, the creature's presence still made his pulse race. It was weird; the swordsman felt like he should run, but even if he'd wanted to he doubted his legs would move.

The Nevermore's flight continued uninterrupted, straight over their group. Cyril sighed and lowered his metal staff, which he'd been holding unconsciously in a battle-ready position. "See?" The monk said in a relieved tone. "It's not attacking. Now we can let the police know or something, maybe arrange some form of reinforcements-"

"It is coming back," said Catherine.

"Aaand we're sunk." he finished with decidedly less bravado than he had started out with.

The Nevermore's chest swelled as it inhaled, feathers ruffling up as though readying themselves for attack. It reached the end of its breath and paused momentarily, then unleashed a sound.

If Blue had taken a minute from covering his ears and reeling in pain, and if also he had looked over his shoulder, and – further hypothetically – if there had been a ten-foot amp stack behind him playing the same broken-glass-on-a-chalkboard noise as before on full volume, he would have been totally unsurprised. As it happened, he did not indeed take any time from covering his ears and reeling in pain.

 _It's a weapon,_ he realized as he tried to regain some of the crucial sense of awareness that was of paramount importance in battle. He blocked out the throbbing pain in his ears and tried to take stock of his surroundings, even while staggered with one knee on the cold asphalt.

Cyril and Natalie clapped their hands over their ears and grimaced in pained expressions similar to his own, having dropped their weapons to the ground with a clatter that was inaudible in the flood of white noise from the Nevermore. Catherine had her arms wrapped entirely around her head, covering her ears and flattening the two dark locks that normally stuck up on the top of her head. Her eyes were still wide open, though, staring with a calculating gaze at the avian Grimm overhead.

It stopped after about twenty seconds, albeit twenty seconds that might have been two decades amidst the wash of grating pain. Blue shook the ringing from his ears and gripped the cord-wrapped hilt of his his nodachi with both hands, even as the echoes of the sound attack reverberated off the towering concrete warehouses around them.

"How do we fight it? Ideas, people. I need ideas." The tall warrior gave his comrades – and himself – no time to panic. That could – had to – wait until later. Right now, they needed to figure out what exactly was going on before they could engage the super-Nevermore and hopefully keep it from wrecking the whole city.

"We could- " began Natalie, shortly before a dark, oblong shape slammed itself into the ground next to her, scattering little crumbles of pavement. It was sleek, a slim, shiny center section off of which branched hundreds of smaller fibers, still as sharp as razors, and as tall as Natalie herself. She stared at the huge Nevermore feather in stunned silence for a few seconds. "We could run. We could definitely run," she suggested.

"Nope. Sorry. Not running." Blue shut the redhead down completely. "We're killing it. Well, I guess it might also kill us. But I actually one hundred percent prefer the first of those two outcomes, so if anybody would like to give me a hand here with Operation Don't Get Killed, that would be fabulous."

The Nevermore screeched again – not the same sonic attack from before, just a normal everyday giant bird monster screech - and swept its massive body into an upright position, dusky wings outstretched to either side before it accelerated them both forward at great speed. The feathered masses rippled as they were put under stress by the powerful creature's muscles, and as they reached the apex of their arc a multitude of coal-black feathers separated from their owner, unable to resist the inertia of the movement. They flew with startling accuracy, as though they were perfectly weighted for maximum effective range, and whistled through the air toward Blue's group.

"Incoming!" Natalie yelled, ducking into an awkward roll in an attempt to evade the barrage of bladed appendages as they ruptured the asphalt at her feet. Catherine blocked a smaller feather with her knife and deflected a larger one into the ground next to her, and Cyril released a burst of air from his fan that scattered several of the murky projectiles from their linear flight path.

Blue studied the incoming feathers carefully and adjusted his footing to move from where he thought most of them should hit. One particularly large one seemed to be moving faster than the others, and he wasn't in a position where he could dodge it effectively. _That leaves blocking,_ he thought and readied his sword.

Two flew past his left shoulder, one impacted between his feet, and another soared over his head. The big one bore down on him faster than he'd expected, and he swung his sword up to block. As his polished silver steel met the reflective black feather, Blue knew immediately that something was wrong.

It was heavy, heavier than he'd expected – the thing had to weigh thirty kilograms, probably also made out of solid metal. The edge of the feather looked blurry and ill-defined, and at the point of contact with Blue's curved nodachi it became evident why: the entire perimeter of the bladed feather was a sharpened, rotating chain. It spun rapidly enough as to throw a shower of glimmering sparks to the ground beneath Blue.

The blue-haired warrior was losing his battle against the force behind the chainsaw-feather, and elected to sidestep and let the projectile through his guard. It crashed into the pavement, continuing to spin until friction robbed the blackened steel weapon of its energy.

More feathers rained down on the group, and the Nevermore screamed at them, as if the hail of sharp blades wasn't enough to remind them of its presence. "Keep moving," shouted Cyril as he scrambled upright, heading toward the edge of the street.

 _The monk has good ideas._ They needed cover, and standing in the middle of the street just wasn't delivering. Blue scanned the building facades for any openings, but turned up only a gray metal door set into the wall that was sure to be locked. Cyril made a beeline for it regardless, although he merely confirmed the swordsman's suspicions.

More feathers sped down from the darkened sky as the avian Grimm circled overhead, scattering the ragtag band of fighters. Blue slid against a warehouse wall on one side of the street, crouching into what little cover it offered. He leaned his head back against the stacked stone blocks, allowing himself a moment's respite if nothing else. He could hear Natalie letting off a burst of desperate fire as she attempted to divert the Grimm's attention in the least.

Blue cracked his eyelids, let his vision focus for an moment, then opened them further as he processed what he was seeing.

"Guys! Fire escape!" The tall warrior yelled. Catherine, Natalie and Cyril followed his gaze to the rusty metal frame set against the warehouse wall opposite him. Natalie curled her chain whip and snapped it around the lowest edge of the bottom ladder, pulling it into reach.

Above them, the Nevermore circled and watched four tiny silhouettes clamber up the scaffolding into a window. Its gut instinct urged it to ram the building with its considerable mass, but a foreign thought also entered its mind, lines of computer code and complex behavioral algorithms factoring in environmental variables and specifications. The Nevermore cawed in satisfaction and looped its flight around so that the warehouse swung into view, dead center.

Natalie rushed through the deserted hallways of the warehouse office, followed closely by her companions. "Why the hell are there so many empty buildings out here? Did that many businesses start up and then fail and just leave this junk here? Sheesh!" She grabbed a lamp and used it to vault over a sizable desk in her search for an exit.

"Wait, are we going up or down?" Cyril asked her as they rushed past another doorway.

"I figured up, since the street wasn't working out too well for us and we wanna attack it. That thing's too high up for ground-level weapons to be effective." Natalie elaborated, pausing every few seconds to gasp for breath.

"I concur." Catherine voiced her opinion.

Another hallway, a right turn and then a quick backtrack down the hallway led the group to a final set of stairs ending with a door set into the ceiling. Natalie crashed into the horizontal locking bar and unlatched it, bursting out onto the corrugated metal roof. The strawberry blonde searched upward for the giant raven Grimm, but when her eyes finally fell on its dark form she froze.

The rest of her group tumbled out onto the roof, except Catherine who leapt nimbly over the other two members. On standing, they soon joined their compadre's gaping stare toward the Nevermore. It was… sort of floating. Its body was vertical in the air, with its wings curled around its torso curiously.

The Nevermore cawed. Its shadowy wings were folded in a cocoon, and it gazed down upon its tiny foes with gleaming, hate-filled eyes. Its wings slid over each other, the space between them and its body growing with each moment. Above and below it, a newfound wind accelerated, kicking up visible streams of atmosphere and howling as it picked up speed. Blue gulped as he took in the scene, and he tried to ignore the cold, clammy feeling he was getting all over his body. Against the backdrop of the dark sky, the Grimm looked completely demonic.

When only its wingtips touched, encircling an angry column of swirling gusts, the Nevermore opened its wings wide. Its miniature wind tunnel surged, almost doubling in width before the beast closed its wings again in a single movement, hurling the dark tower of raging air at the four teenagers.

"Back inside!" Blue shouted over the rushing wind. The others bolted for the door they'd left hanging open on its hinges.

The Grimm's funnel cloud of torrentuous wind closed in on them with incredible speed, enveloping the better part of the roof where they stood in just seconds. The tall swordsman grabbed the door as he leapt in after them, practically diving into the oblong opening in a panic. He slammed the door shut and it latched with a _thunk_ just as the artificial tornado swooped over them. They were safe, and he was unharmed, but he still slid down the stairs awkwardly to meet his group at the bottom.

They were all a bit frazzled. "Freaking _tornadoes?!_ " Natalie yelled. She smacked Blue.

"What was that for?" He yelled back incredulously.

"I needed to hit something. You're convenient." She breathed heavily for a few moments, the wind from the Nevermore's twister howling outside as it rattled the warehouse's windows in their frames. "Freaking _tornadoes?!_ " She yelled again. Blue covered his head with his arms, but Natalie refrained from reflexively hitting him again.

"Okay, yes, it's scary. Normal Nevermores don't do that. Why is this one different and more importantly how can we disable it from causing further mayhem?" Cyril interrupted their bickering as he turned brusquely down the hallway. Blue wasn't sure where exactly he intended to go, but he and the others followed anyway.

"I can shoot it, but I have zero chance of hitting near any vital spots from ground level. Roof height seems a little sketchy too, what with the scary tornado thing and all." Natalie responded.

Cyril considered that for a moment before speaking. "Okay, everybody… I think I may have the makings of a plan."

 **Yeah, it's been the better part of four months since my last post and I 100% blame school. Calculus, physics and gov/econ are the newest banes of my life and I am seriously considering adding them to the story as secondary antagonists. Interesting dynamic, huh? Anyway, I've been working on this chapter during every scrap of my spare time and I was going to wait until it was finished, but this is already long enough that I thought I'd just post** _ **something,**_ **if only to prove to myself that the story isn't dead in the water. And it isn't, I promise, but from now until May after AP exams I'm going to be strapped for time and I can't make any promises in that regard, though with luck I'll post well before the next four-months marker. Thanks to everybody who's stuck out the wait, welcome to everybody new to the fic, and as always: please follow, favorite and review the story. Until next time!**


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